#It sounds like I’m gonna trauma dump in some book

[red0-3]

holy hell I look like shit

anyways how do you explain to somebody that you got a scar under your eye without it sounding like a gacha OC? Or like an over dramatic trauma dump?

(Ignore yapping in description unless you wanna read it, idc)

[mellowyellow236]

The TWST boys write letters to Yuu/The Prefect!

All of them except for Ortho+Checka are meant to be interpreted as romantic, but many can be interpreted as platonic as well. The reader is gender-neutral, but more feminine adjectives will be used when referring to them. Characters will probably be a bit OOC.

Minor spoilers for their respective books in each section, but I try to keep it as spoiler-free as I can, except for who overbloted. If anyone has any questions or comments, please leave an ask or comment :) All are under the cut.

NRC:

Heartslabyul:  

Riddle Rosehearts - 

My dearest rose, 

You are the loveliest person I have ever known. It is a miracle that you chose to get to know me, and even more so after I hurt you and your friends so deeply. I have made many mistakes, but you, my rose, look past them. I understand that you may choose to go home one day, but even so... 

Please just give me a moment of your time, a fraction of your thoughts, and I’ll be satisfied. Any inch of you that I can get, I want, even if you still believe me a tyrant. If it pleased you- No, if it only made you look my way, I would gladly break any rule of the queen’s or my mother’s. Understand that, my rose, and I am sure you’ll know what remains unsaid in this letter. 

Yours Truly, 

Riddle Rosehearts 

Trey Clover - 

Prefect, 

Hello. I wanted to thank you, first and foremost, for helping out Heartslabyul so much. You’ve been a very good influence on Ace and Duece, and it’s nice to see Cater open up to someone. Not to mention, Riddle’s been improving every day. I can’t even describe how much you’ve helped me... I just hope you know that I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done. You’re welcome at Heartsabyul at any time. I have some donuts waiting for you if you want. 

From, 

Trey. 

Cater Diamond - 

Prefect, 

Heyyy! Whatcha doing right now? I’m sooooo happy that you came to NRC even if, like, all of the housewarden’s tried to ratio you. I do not subscribe to that, BTW. #NotCool, #Yikes-A-Tron. But,  like... On a more serious note, I am happy that I got to know you. It’s nice to have someone I can just be myself around. No drama, no expectations, just... Yeah. I know that you’re gonna leave at some point, and it’s almost a relief. You’re honest about it, which is something that many can’t say. 

Ugh, that was probs TMI! I’m not trying to trauma dump here, oops. There’s this cute cafe that opened up downtown, totally Magicam-worthy. You wanna meet up there sometime? 

- Cay-cay ♦️  

Ace Trapolla - 

Prefect!! 

I need your help! So, Trein’s got this super hard test coming up on Friday- Like, Riddle-got-a-99-last-year level of hard. Yeah, that’s without the extra credit, but STILL! That’s failure to the tyrant! So, you’ve got to come over to Heartslabyul right now and help me study. Pleaseeeee!!!! I’ll owe you one! 

Oh, and don’t bring Grim. Deuce’s also got plans, there’s no need to ask him. You know, in case that matters to you. 

See ya, 

Ace 

Deuce Spade - 

Dear Prefect, 

Hello, how are you doing? Can you believe that it’s already been so long since we became friends? When we broke that chandelier, I was ready to never talk to you again... But now look at us! I’m on my way to becoming an honor student, and you’re working on finding your way home! I’m happy that you’re going to be able to go soon, I know how bad it feels not to be able to see your family (and probably friends in your case) after so long away, but also sad that you’ll be leaving us. 

I’ve got it! Let’s get your ghost camera, and we’ll take lots of photos of us all over campus! Two of each, so that way no matter what, both of us will always remember what we went through together. That sounds like a good idea, right? 

From, 

Duece 

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

Herbivore, 

Hey. You’re an idiot, you know that? You’re stupid and impulsive and don’t know when to quit or give up. That’s why you keep looking for me in the botanical gardens, right? You just don’t know when to stop. I’m sure that you’ll realize I’m not worth your effort soon enough. But until then, you have to come to see me more often. You’re my pillow, I don’t get good enough sleep if you’re not there. 

I’m in the usual place. Get over here as soon as possible. 

- Leona 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Hiya, Prefect... 

I’ve been thinking, and you should let me come over to Ramshackle and fix the place up for you. No upfront cost, of course, but... I want the right to use the kitchen as I please, whenever I please. 

Why, you’re asking? Shishishi... Not telling. You’ve just got to trust me on this, I’ll make it worth your while. Then again, maybe I’ll just blow the kitchen up and you’ll have to live at Savanclaw again! That’d be fun, huh? 

If you don’t want me to, ya better give up your kitchen for a little while! I’ll get that microwave up and running again in no time.

- Ruggie 

Jack Howl - 

Dear Prefect, 

Hello, have you been feeling alright? I’ve noticed that Crowley isn’t the best provider of food. While on my morning runs, I’ve noticed Grim loudly talking about how he doesn’t have enough tuna. He does it pretty often. So, I’ve thought of a solution; You could try eating breakfast with me. I always get big portions, so you could have some. If you want, I could even try lifting you and carrying you places. I need to get better strength training anyway, and then you’ll have a buddy to get stronger with. It’s always better to have a friend with you. 

From, 

Jack 

Octavinelle: 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

My Pearl, 

Allow me to start this letter by saying that you are truly the crown jewel of my riches and that none can replace your beauty. You are the loveliest, most perfect little pearl, and I adore you with my whole heart. And yet, I cannot seem to convince myself that you feel the same. You say you do, and even if it is a crime to believe your lips hold lies, I cannot believe that to be true. If it was, why? Not just why you would tell me- A scheming man who has hurt you and your friends- that I hold the keys to your heart, but why you would choose what I hold underneath. I’m no good for you in terms of personality or how I look, and yet... You still hold me dear. And for that alone, I want to take you to the Coral Sea where my home lies, but not for a deal this time. Just... Because I want you and my mother in the same place. The two most important people to me meeting... That’s the best thing I can think of, to be honest. 

With Love, 

Azul Ashengrotto 

Jade Leech - 

Dearest Prefect, 

It has come to my attention that you haven’t had a chance to enjoy a proper mushroom dish since arriving in Twisted Wonderland. Now, that will not do for much longer. This letter should contain a box with three containers worth of mushroom dishes. You are to eat them and write back to me with what you thought of each of them. In return, I shall continue to provide you with free food. 

Do be warned, however, that they should all be eaten as fast as possible once you get them in case my brother chooses to throw them out. Also, so that way Grim cannot eat them. I would not recommend it for a cat.

Kind Regards, 

Jade Leech 

Floyd Leech - 

Shrimpy!!!!!! 

You and me. In the courtyard. Now. 

I’m going to squeeze you. 

🐬°˖𓍢✨໋ 🐋✧°.🐟⋆ 

🦐🥢🥢🥢🥢🧨 

I’ll see you later if you want me to or not. 

- Floyd <3333333 

Scarabia: 

Kalim Al-Asim - 

Hello!!!!

I love you!!! I love you, I love you, I love you! You’re the most wonderful person in this school, and you’ve done so much for both me and Jamil! It would be silly for me not to love you. I love how your hair looked in the wind when we went on that carpet ride, I love how you looked in the school’s uniform and how you looked when you tried on my dorms, and I love how you look no matter how you dress because you’re a beautiful person inside and out! I love you, and nothing can change that! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ 

Hugs and kisses, 

Kalim Al-Asim 

P.S. Let’s go on another magic carpet ride soon, okay? I want to show you how pretty the moon looks when it’s full and you’re flying!

Jamil Viper - 

Dear Prefect,

Thank you for saving me when I overblotted. I am aware that what I did was wrong, and I apologize. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from. Either way, I feel as though I must do something more for you to show you that. Please come to Scarabia tonight. I will make you a special dinner if you do. Please, don’t tell Kalim. I want... something special, for the two of us this time. 

See you later, 

Jamil Viper

Pomefiore: 

Vil Schoenheit - 

My Dearest Potato, 

I regret to inform you that you have bewitched me. So much so that I willingly took on a role as a villain in this next movie. The villain falls in love with the hero’s love interest, and then, in a “shocking” turn of events, she chooses the villain to stand by. Of course, they’re both defeated, the hero gets with his childhood friend in some lesson of how love will always be waiting for you, whatever. But I still chose it, even if Neige plays the hero. 

I finally have a love interest, and they remind me of you. You could have stood by his side, you know. You should have. I poisoned him; That action speaks for itself. And yet, you decided to stay with me. Just like how that villain in this story gets the girl the hero originally wanted. 

I’ve won your heart as well, haven’t I? 

Sincerely, 

Vil Schoenheit 

Rook Hunt - 

Trickster, 

Bonjour, mon amour! I could not resist sending you another letter. You see my darling, I long for you like I long for the sunset on a hot day, for an oasis in a desert, for a hint of rain during the dry season, for the sun during the days when it pours. I'd imagine you'd taste like the rain as well, Trickster, and if given the chance, I'd taste again and again, in an attempt to satiate more than just my curiosity. 

Oh, Trickster, have you any idea how you’ve bewitched me? Why, just the sight of you is enough to send me spiraling, wishing for the smallest fraction of a chance that my affections are shared. How cruel is fate, to deny me the right to live and die within your arms? La petite mort would be heaven if it was with you, but death would truly come for me if it wasn’t. 

Je t'aime de tout mon coeur, 

Le Chasseur D'Armour 

Epel Felmeir - 

Prefect, 

I need some help. I found out that milk can make ya grow stronger, and also help you get taller. However, Vil has banned me from drinking it because I drank a carton in two days. Something about it raising my cholesterol or making me break out, I don’t care. So, I need to keep it at Ramshackle. That’s okay with you, right? Well, I sure hope it is, cause it’s getting in there if ya want it to or not! I’ll see ya soon, just make sure it’s in the fridge. I’ll get ya some of my family’s apple juice in return, it’ll be good. I reckon ya liked it last time. 

Epel 

Ignihyde: 

Idia Shroud - 

Prefect, 

Get to my room, and fast. There’s an event taking place, and I need a player two. This one requires another person to be in the same room, so I can’t ask any of my mutuals, and you’re the only one I trust with this. I can’t ask Ortho either, don’t ask why. 

Also I recently got pink lights in my room like those normies. That’s why everything looks kind of pink, it’s not my hair. Just in case you were wondering if I was embarrassed or whatever, you’re wrong. Just get over here ASAP, no time to waste. 

- Gloomurai 

Ortho Shroud - 

Hello, how are you? ( ˵ •̀ ᴗ •́˵) I am very happy to get a chance to talk with you. I have recently learned how to type out these little faces called ‘kaomoji’ that my big brother loves. Here are some of my favorites: 

♡✧( •⌄• ) 

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ 

•ω• 

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ - This one is a cat! 

I would like to share more with you. Please come to Ignihyde so I can teach you how to get them on your phone as well. I can provide free updates while you’re here if needed. (✿˶◕‿◕˶人◕ᴗ◕✿) 

Sent To: PerfectPrefect@email.com 

Date: XX/XX/XXXX 

Return Email: orthoshroud2@email.com 

Diasomnia: 

Malleus Dracona - 

My Dearest Child Of Man, 

If Longing was painful, how much farther would I have to fall to crash and burn at your feet? The only answer I can give is that I already would have. I would build monuments in your name and would offer you the world and more if only you would say you loved me back. 

Could this be considered love? Could these feelings I hold deep within my heart, only to divulge in the darkest hours of the night with none but the stars and you to bear witness to my passion, be a form of love? Or is this simply my yearning, a longing for your heart, and wanting to have someone to call my own? 

The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were the one I wanted next. How I wish I could scream your name from the rooftop, and raise my voice in song only to sing your praises. You have the face of an angel, and I am sure that you must have the mind of one as well, for even if the voices in your head remind you of nothing more than pain and suffering, they have still been able to mold you into the perfection you are today. But maybe you have devils as well, trying to smite you as you sleep, but just as I do all of your angels, I will pick them up and kiss their heads if they are a part of someone I care for so much. You are perfection, Child of Man, and this dragon wishes only to live with the crumbs of affection as my treasures. 

Yours Until The End Of Eternity, 

Prince Malleus Dracona Of Briar Valley Hornton 

Lilia Vanrouge - (Okay so for Lilia I could have SWORN that he calls the prefect ‘Beastie,’ but I can find that nowhere. Literally at all, no one seems to have used it for him, but I know that I’ve seen at least one person do it. I now think that it’s a headcanon thing but I’m not sure, if anyone knows who did this or if it’s canon, please tell me. I’ve been searching for far too long and I am in too deep.)

Beastie, 

Hello, my darling~! I have an easy-peasy little request for you, m’kay? You just need to travel over to Diasomnia, and then... I’ll make you a meal! Malleus has been out trying to find this one gargoyle on campus all day since I brought up wanting to learn a new recipe, and Sebek and Silver both ran off earlier to go help him. I don’t know how to tell them that the gargoyle they’re looking for definitely isn’t at Night Raven College. Raising kids is quite hard, especially when things like this come up... 

But you’ll be there for me, won’t you, Beastie? Pretty please? I’ll see you tonight if you want to, a little date if you feel up to it. Mwah! 

xoxo, 

Lilia 

Silver “Vanrouge” - 

Dear Prefect, 

I had the most wonderful dream. I think I did, at least. I can’t remember it, but I remember how familiar these eyes were, and I knew it was you as soon as I awoke. And I know it's true, that dreams are seldom what they seem... But if I know how you are, then I know what you'll do; You'll look at me the same way you did once upon inside my dreams. And tell me all about the animals that you found with me when I awoke. What I wouldn’t give to hear you tell me about every birdie that comes to me; I’d be willing to fall asleep in the forest every day if only to hear you cooing to the birds when I come to. I wonder if each little bird has someone to sing sweet things to, a little love melody like what I long to play for you one day. Well, either way, I’m growing sleepy now. The effects of my curse will soon be on me once more. I’ll see you either later today or tomorrow, depending on how long I’m asleep. If you need me or simply wish to keep me company, I’m currently resting in the woods. 

Best Wishes, 

Silver 

Sebek Zigvolt - 

HUMAN! 

I have something to show you; A new notebook to be filled, gifted to me by Master Lilia. He said that it is a ‘scrapbook’, which humans fill up with pictures and drawings of themselves and their friends. To fulfill the purpose of this illustrious gift, you must come to Diasomnia at once! You shall be the first of the first years to be added, along with Silver. Prepare enough of those photographs you have to fill half of the book. The other shall be dedicated to Wakasama! 

Sincerely, 

Sebek Zigvolt  

RSA+NBC: 

Che’nya - 

Prefect... 

When are you going to visit RSA, huh? It would be purrr-fect to get a chance to see you again. You’re quite the pretty purr-son, dontcha think? Or maybe I’ll just drop by at the next unbirthday party... Riddle and Trey would like that, but I wonder what you’d think. Hum-hum-hummm... 

Kitty Kisses, 

Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker <3 

Neige Leblanche - (The Reader is called NRC’s ‘princess’ in this one, but not called a woman or anything)

My Dearest, 

Hello! How are you fairing? Have you been doing okay since the VDC? I know that you looked pretty shaken up back then, so I wanted to make sure that you’ve been okay. After all, you’re NRC’s princess! As far as I can tell, anyway. I’m happy that there’s someone around Vil like you, he always looked like he needed a good cheering up. And you’re like a fairytale! Such pretty hair and eyes and skin; Oh, I’d ride away with you on a white horse if I could! 

Ah, that’s odd to say to someone I don’t know very well, isn’t it? I’m sorry, that’s my fault. You still want to be friends, right? If you do, please come visit me at some point. Or, just send me a letter back. I’ll make sure that you get priority over any fan letter. 

Love, 

Neige Leblanche 

Rollo Flamme -

Mon Amour, 

There are times I wish I could tear you down and take you apart only to sew you back together. Rip you to shreds only to tenderly put each piece back where it should be. Drink from you until there's nothing left and then fill you up with all of the love I could offer, make you mine and mine alone. Those greedy thoughts shouldn't even make their way onto this paper, shouldn’t even be in my head, and yet here I am, penning them in a letter never to be sent. 

I truly wish you never see these letters, for I'd hate to be the reason your face turns to disgust, even if for a moment. Of course, I don't regret writing them. You will never read them, after all, but I believe I should get my thoughts out like this rather than bottle them up, lest I do something stupid and let you see them. I pray that you will never have to see me in a state like how I write to you, over my bedside table in the dead of night, eyes barely open and breath still recovering from dreams of a sweeter pleasure than I should sully your name with. 

I mention those dreams I have of you a lot, it seems, although I mean it in the most innocent way possible. Ever since I met you, you've infested my dreams and wormed your way into my heart like a parasite I can't rid myself of. My dreams are all of the sweet moments I have longed for and never gotten. I only have eyes for you, after all, and a saint may never lie with a sinner, lest they become one as well. 

Bonus: 

Checka Kingscholar - 

To Perfect, 

Hello! I am Checka Kingscholar. I am fiv years old. I like my unca. I like my dad and I love my mom. I love you! Goodbye! •ᴗ•

[v-i-r-i-d-i-a-n]

OHHH ITS GOOD TO BE BACK ON MY BULLSHIT

Jrwi riptide, episode 94 “back to zero” quotes and funny moments!

WTF IS THIS INTRO EARL LMAO

I love clicking on jrwi videos and never knowing what I’ll open up too. One of my favorite intros BY FAR

Sleep deprived Gillion is my favorite Gillion

I love Gillion SO MUCH I cannot express it popularly. Him just going around yelling at everyone to help with a book

Chip *reading Gillion’s story to Jay*;And the massive sausages all attacked Gillion and he killed them and it was awesome, he beat everybody, and then they had pancakes”

Gillion;”That’s Book 2 you fucking idiot”

Chip;”that arm cost…three hundred thousand gold…?”

Griffin;”Around there”

Bizly;”We “yes and’ed” our way too fucking deep WE CANT GET OUT”

Gillion;”hey grand peepaw!!”

Finn;”EEEEEEGHHH”

Charlie;”😧”

Gillion;”If you don’t want that I’ll burn it 😄”

“IF YOU GIVE A FISH A FAMILY”??? DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE CHARLIE SLIMECICLE???

Oh the book is a trauma dumping story /j

THIS WNTIRE BOOK SEGMENT IS MAKING ME LAUGH SO HARX HELP ME

“There’s a very violent drawing of Gillion stabbing Jay’s dad in the chest”

I need this book to be real so badly

I’ve decided Goobleck haunts Gillion and is just constantly talking to him with how much they’re cutting between voices the last few episodes

Goobleck;”I LIKE IT!! GOOD!”

Gillion;”whatthefuck 😟”

Chip;”He said “you’re a dumb baby loser, and you’ve let this family down” IM LITERALLY CAKCLING HELP ME

I love this stupid book in this stupid campaign :((

I NEED THIS BOOK

Chip;”Peepaws first words!! :00 half of them were bad words…”

Grizzly;”That was fun!”

Charlie;”That was fun??? You mother fucker”

Ollie;”Oh my god it looks so different!! Oh my god!! I don’t even know where I am-“

Gillion;”I don’t know where I am either…somebody help.”

Chip carrying Gillion to town square my beloved

EARL AND FINNNNN PLAYING CHESSSS

THEY MADE THEM A STATUEEEE THATS SO SWEET

Gillion;”What that word you said?? He’s a child and we ugh…nabbed him”

Chip;”do you- do you just LIKE making things harder for us?”

Chip;”Oh? Héroes…”

Gillion;”Heroes sounds way better than pirates chip, maybe we should rebrand.”

Gillion;”And maybe they’d like some cake…but if that’s too hard, they could settle for something else…like…icecream, or cupcakes.”

Gillion and Chip signing babies LMAO

ISTG. IF GRIZZLY KILLS OLLIES MOM RIGHT WHEN THEY GET HIM BACK IM GONNA KILL HIM

All this art is feeding me sm

OLLIES MOMMM DAMN GIMME A CHANCE PLS

Ollie’s mom being so depressed she falls ill :((

Gillion;”Hey Jay…it’s…starting to feel…like we should’ve brought Ollie home.. right away-“

Jay;”Like faster? Yeah- that was probably the best play.”

Gillion;”Who knew there were moms- and they got so sad.”

Jay;”Yeah…who knew”

JAY AND GILLION MOMLESS MOMENTS🙏🙏

AGHHH WHO TF IS THIS FUCK

Jay;”We can maybe…talk to him, straighten him out.”

Chip;”we can kick his ass, you want us to kick his ass??”

Gillion;”is he evil??? He evil?? Does he have an evil stank on him?? Let me smell him.”

Gillion;”Seems like we’re all sick, sick of this guys BULLSHIT.”

Chip;”I’m with you dude.”

Chip;”I feel like we’ve been on the boat too long we’re like ITCHING to kill this guy”

Gillion;”YEAH YEAH I’LL DO I’LL DO IT!!”

NEW FNC MOMENT JUST DROPPED

Chip;”but not yet but not yet- nooo nooo Gillion baby girl”

Gillion:”Yes- yes babyboy?”

Jay;”WHAT??”

Gillion;”we all have codenames”

Chip;”Yeah and yours is hagfish- right Gillion?”

Gillion;”Righhtt.”

Gillion has a whoopee cushion that makes a human scream sound

Chip;”I mean- I don’t wanna introduce myself as a riptide hero”

Gillion;”I do.”

Gillion;”I am deeply sorry…that we stole your son for four months.”

Jay;”nononononono Gillion you’re not allowed to say any more words.”

Chip;”not even ten words, and you ruined it.”

Ollie;”and at one point- 😭😭 I stretched really long, and I- 😔😔I didn’t wanna come home like that cus I thought you wouldn’t recognize me 😭😭”

Ollies mother;”…w-what??”

Jay;”What are we supposed to do?? Say no to a twelve year old boy??”

Bizly;”sniff sniff SMELLS LIKE GANG SHIT”

OMG MARSHALL JOHNS DIARY

John;”Dear Diary, my heart wilts like a rose.”

Jay;”We burn it we burn it.”

John;”Dear Diary, why?”

John;”Dear Diary, these weights on my shoulders I lift, surprising…why am I not dummy thicc?”

CALLBACK TO EPISODE ONE CALLBACK TO EPISODE ONE EHHEHEBE I LOVE TJESE STUPID PIRATES

Gillion;”I am���as they say, hubid”

Chip;”…hubid?”

[fleamontsoleil]

Hello people!

I'm a guy who fell in love with stories at a young age, and decided to make their life about them.

I’m a genderqueer, bisexual mess born on april 15th, which makes me:

an aries

using they/he pronouns,

coming from poland, 

speak polish, english and basic german, spanish, french and danish, which means i can wish you a happy birthday and order coffee, and also talk about the weather and describe my outfit, but i will not get into the depths of quantum physics. 

i’m also autistic.

more info lower!

Other random things about me:

i love writing

lemons, ginger, cinnamon, pears, pasta

i have a sweet tooth

i’m getting back into drawing and watercolour painting

i love flowers, my favourite one being a carnation

i’m basically 24/7 in headphones, music always on

i like learning new languages (if you haven’t figured that out yet)

i enjoy reading, watching movies and tv shows

i can play on ukulele and i’m getting better at guitar and bass

i love stickers and pins

kinda obsessed with angels and religious symbolism while being an atheist, idk how i did that

i can trauma dump without realising, sorry for that

i love sticking things to my walls

and also telling stories

travelling

coffee

chocolate

green

robin williams

On this blog, I reblog/post things related to writing and relatable things I see. Sometimes share a snippet of my writing or freak about an idea I'm having. I’m thinking about separating this side blog into two, one for fanfic (this one), and one for my original work (with my pen name) but idk. Maybe when I have more time.

What do I write?

I write mostly fiction and fantasy, usually gory.

I write things that are inspired by things I know. I have a great imagination, which sometimes is not so fun, but when I write it's really useful. I can sit in any place and make it into a story.

All my works include queer representation.

Some of my works might be graphic, but I will put trigger warnings before any of them.

My current works:

If it comes to longer WIPs, I am used to working on one/two at once, but giving it my whole attention for the time of writing. Even though I can read seven books at once, I can't write them at once.

I also write a lot of short stories, but I will not be listing them here.

"The Tangled Sun" (working title) - a fantasy novel (1st dratf) tag: wip : tts queer, pirates, magic

"Darksun" (working title) - a post apocalyptic novel(1st draft) tag: wip : darksun angels, queer, gore, horror

Fanfiction:

you can find me under cowboymorpheus on ao3

All of Us, Strangers - an AOUS deancas AU 24,095 words “How do you cope?” he asks. “With what?” “Listen?” he says, almost asks, and sticks the hand with the bottle up, one finger pointing at the ceiling. Dean doesn’t hear anything. The silence fills the entire space. “It’s so quiet,” he says, and his voice is slightly broken up, as if he’s mourning the sound that isn’t present. “The city’s out there, but we can’t hear a fucking thing.” Castiel leans even closer, as if he was about to tell Dean his deepest, darkest secret, and Dean backs away. His hand tightens on the doorknob. “I play music, but it’s worse when it ends. I even bought one of those white-noise machines. It’s like someone’s in the corner of the room, whispering about me. We can’t even open the windows, but I guess they don’t want us to jump.” he pauses for a while. “Bad for business. Broken bodies on the concrete. Who’s gonna move in then?” he asks, but he doesn’t expect an answer.

Dean Cas Big Bang fic - estimated word count 27k

on the road - WHICH IS A WORKING TITLE - estimated word count is 60k After John dies, Dean has no more reasons to be trapped in his hometown. With the encouragement of his friends and family, he hits the road, where he meets new people and learns new things about himself, finally being able to explore himself as much as he always wanted to. Not having to hide, being able to just be his own person is something he didn't know he would ever be able to do. Little does he know, it's only the beginning of the good things to happen.

stained white roses - a darkfic basically

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My other account is @cowboymorpheus. you'll probably find out some more on the intro post there. It's where I reblog and sometimes post fandom stuff, here it's just, I don't know. Writing, ao3 and the rest of random stuff like that.

That's pretty much all. Like I said, I'm open to new conversations, so don't hesitate to message me or send asks anytime. And I'm ask/tag game friendly!

Have a nice one!

[sharkiethrts]

Karma with a s/o who is. Very odd. They r very quiet, scientific and smart but also a bubbly smartass who also has special interests that a lot find gross, morbid and questionable- like if you see them kneeling and digging in the dirt they’d just look up, get excited and say “im looking for f u n g u s🧌” and how they get wide eyed, giggly and gremlin like from finding a cool, possibly deadly organism! Then picking it up and showing it to everybody while literally full-body convulsing from excitement as everyone freaks out! Just. Zero consideration for his safety if it’s for the sake of discovery. Kind of like an intelligent bimbo boy </33 He’s just a devious little creature getting up to mischief, following the beat of their own drum! Sort of like the punk-ish parasite, fungi, protist, coral and decomposer/detritivore studying entrapta. Who’s also a library robber. I steal books from my school. I’m kind of a. Small person. Short and fem bodied but prefers masculine, neutral, neos or just any and no pronouns! Also i have diagnosed adhd and probably more than that, really like learning at school but i SUCK at math and PE, i also look dead and i wear really crazy intense makeup and chop all of my hair off for fun sometimes when I’m not in a depressive state, also i am really confrontational and stubborn as shit ! If you actually know personality type stuff like cognitive functions and enneagram, I’m an INTP 5w6 and my tritype is 584! Holy fuck. I write so much. Now you see what my teachers have to deal with. Also what any tumblr writers who write for karma have to deal with. I am so sorry jesus fuck i am a lot to take in

writing style, casual

KARMA AKABANE: headcanons: s/o that is known to be much more intelligent than him

[11:40PM, 23rd March 2022]

(by the way, no promises that I'll get all info in. i only got the once my dyslexic brain actually processed. too much words, my guy. too much words.)

- he was lowkey kind of scared of u at first

- but dude he cherishes u the moment yall got together

- have u seen him in the anime? he was hyping up everyone for what they are unique for

- he appreciates how odd you are

- weirdo, i know. like tf is wrong with u karma

- at least he has good taste in ppl ig

- dude

- judging by ur intense typing and spamming??? my guess is that u would spam the shit outta him at ungodly hours

- he would still reply to u tho

- ikr?? simp behaviour LMFAO

- dude he is so good at maths and PE

- teachers u maths

- free tutoring?? fuck ya. fuck the patriarchy ig

- idk how the patriarchy got involved LMFaO

- ok anyway

- intp and istp?? ayo cutie?? lesgo

- 5w6?? dude dude mine is 5w4

- not related but u sound cool enough for me to info dump u

- get egoboosted ig

- library robber??? dude karma prolly got a few books and half-unintentionally did not give it back

- bc lmfao he couldnt bother going back

- has a huge amount of emails telling him to give the books back

- but he just kind of ignores them ykyk

- f u n g us?? did u say dfungus??

- bitch he is gonna take that chance to put teresaka in danger

- "watch my s/o for me<3"

- and teresaka gets some shit up in his head and now has trauma

- my guy u are dangerous fr no cap

- small person?? bestie idk bout u but u getting bullied hardDDDDDDDDDddddah

- the -dah didnt have to be there LMFAO

HAHHAHAHAAH

- ok anyway

- im so sorry for the info i missed

- but dude u cool man?? wanna dump karma and go on a date sometime??/hj/j/hj/j

ok bye

[heliosoll]

Hey Jay! I’m the same 16 year old anon who’s turning 17 in 6 months who had the 21 year old ask me out (Irejected him lol), this time I do have a shifting question… kind of.

Ok so, I have been thinking about shifting to Heartstopper, not fully certain on doing it, but thinking of it. The characters within heartstopper at the beginning (where we are in the TV series), are within the age range of 15-17/18.

In the books they’re kind of adults now, but that’s not the point.

For some reason I feel like an awful person for wanting to shift there, it has a lot to do with personal problems (not gonna trauma dump, I promise), but I kind of struggle with having crushes on people within my age range.

Usually with like celebrity crushes or fictional crushes or even real people crushes lol, they’re like way older than me and I have no chance lol, so when I have a crush on a person within my age range it’s like 😲 lol.

I kind of have a crush on a character who’s like 15-16 (Tao) and I’m 16, but for some reason I feel so bad for liking this character, like my brain is like telling me that I’m a weirdo for liking this character, meanwhile I’m currently the same age lol! I have a habit of catastrophising things, it’s anxiety lol.

Same with shifting to the MCU. I wanted to shift and be a part of Peter Parker’s friend group, but I felt like a god awful person for doing so.

So the question is, just to make sure that I’m not freaking crazy, is it ok for me to shift to this place/for this character or am I a freaking weirdo for wanting to shift for these characters?

I know this sounds absolutely ridiculous, but anxiety is literally hell on earth and making me think that I’m a freaking **** and makes me question everything. I need to get out of the house lol. You totally don’t have to answer this.

BABEEEEE you're chill trust me!! I get where the anxiety is coming from but I would block you if you sounded like a ****. You're the same age as them so you don't have to worry about that! I think you should remind yourself that while you do get attracted to older people, you yourself are not that age (at least not in your CR). You're young! You're 16!! It's okay to be attracted to people in your age group!

Listen, if you shift to Heartstopper and start dating this person and still feel weird, you can always leave. You're not a bad person for liking them, but if you genuinely still feel weird about it when you're there, you can leave. You don't have to stay! Same with the MCU and being friends with Peter Parker. You can always leave if you feel bad! But honestly, there's a good chance you won't feel weird when you're actually there? Shift there and just see how it goes yknow?

[thepictureofsdr]

7,8

7. what disappointed you?

WHOOOOO what a question

1. no meaningful alastair POV, his trauma continues to be dumped through other peoples perspectives and he’s received absolutely no care, genuine comfort, help, or healing

2. this love triangle, it’s so unnecessary and clunky and there’s no romantic chemistry btw cordelia and matthew imo, their friendship is so wonderful.

3. the treatment of matthews alcoholism. i’m not an expert, i don’t know how it should be dealt with but i what i do know is that it needs a lot more time and attention, it’s a serious issue, not a throwaway plot point that can disappear in two pages at the end of chot. also cordelia compares matthew to her abusive alcoholic father like twice and now theyre two points of a love triangle??? idk what cassie is doing. also the complete lack of acknowledgment of the traumas caused by elias’s alcoholism and literal death

4. the sexualisation of cordelia. she is a minor, and it’s genuinely kinda ooc for james. he adores HER so much, he has to look away when she smiles and he gets flustered seeing her hair down, he wanted to fight the man she may marry in the future and could barely breathe when she talked about loving someone else, he calms down at the sound of her voice and he wants to lay his head down in her lap and have her play with his hair bc he knows her touch would help his headache. and yet all the soft moments we could’ve had were sacrificed for weirdly in depth descriptions of cordelias body, all the sweet things he thinks about her were shoved aside for horny teen thoughts. i only reread alastair scenes but i remember being uncomfortable reading some of these scenes, esp since i was the same age as cordelia when reading it

5. CORDELIA RUNNING AWAY TO PARIS WITH MATTHEW??? MY GIRL WOULD NEVER LEAVE HER HEAVILY TRAUMATIZED BROTHER TO DEAL WITH THEIR RECENTLY WIDOWED PREGNANT MOTHER AND DEATH OF THEIR FATHER ALONE ESPECIALLY AFTER FINDING OUT THAT HED BEEN TAKING CARE OF EVERYTHING HALF THEIR LIVES WHAT IS SHE DOINGGGGGGG

6. ghostwriter feels kinda rushed, probably bc they thought he was gonna die but i hope they slow down in the next book now that they have time

7. the serial killer plot line 100% wasnt used to its full capacity, and as someone who was specifically excited for that trope im still salty

you probably didn’t want an essay i’m so sorry

8. what is the top thing you wish had been done differently

the sanctuary scene.

1. thomas should’ve been kidnapped like we all thought was gonna happen the angst would’ve been so GOOD

2. if we could get multiple jordelia shmexy scenes we could get one full thomastair scene not split into 4 parts. the split was literally just a cop out for cc to not have to write more, she just took one pretty short scene and sprinkled it across like 3 chapters to give the illusion of doing thomas and alastair justice

3. the timeskip of their conversation. what is it with this book and skipping anything healthy to write about kids making out

4. thomas not vocalizing his feelings and the almost brushing over alastairs trauma to make out. i’m so desperate for concrete emotional thomastair progress

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being best friends with Klaus Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves x reader

warnings: drugs/alcohol, blood, smoking, guns, death mention

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Hi! Could you write a Klaus Hargreeves x best friend reader headcanon, just the random shenanigans they get into together, the fun they have together. No hidden romance or anything, just complete and utter platonic LOVE. If you have ideas for some angsty point in the headcanon feel free to put them in, I just want to be best friends with Klaus so bad and this is my way to fulfill it XD thank you so much!!”

meeting each other pretty much the day he left the umbrella academy

he was cheering in the street, which you found absolutely amusing

“hey, what’s got you so happy?”

“i’m so glad you asked! today’s my eighteenth birthday, which means im free at last!”

“wow, well, happy birthday”

“i have the greatest idea, do you want to spend it with me?”

you didn’t have anything else to do, so why the hell not?

klaus was a wild child, anyone could have told you that

he paraded down the streets with you, arms interlocked as he skipped around town

you two were singing whatever tune came to mind

“where are you staying tonight?”

“wherever i please!”

“would you like to crash on my couch?”

“do you have a tv?”

“i do”

he agreed and made you watch movies with him until you both passed out

after that night, you two became best friends

he was a lot to handle, but you could take it

plus, you didn’t mind having some crazy unplanned fun, either

to be honest, klaus did have some rough patches, though

he’d call you from the police station time and time again, asking for you to come pick him up

klaus magically was able to talk them out of any charges, you thought only his sister could do that

oh! i forgot to mention, he opened up to you about his powers and the way he was raised

you had heard about the umbrella academy before, so you believed him

you were just surprised that he was one of ‘em

“yeah, yeah, dad said i’m supposed to ‘commune with the dead,’ but he has no idea how hard that actually is! the mental toll it has on a person!”

he told you about ben, who was actually present at the time, you just couldn’t see him

you and klaus went on to be friends for years, sharing so many memories together

some of them were drunken, you must admit

you weren’t a fan of klaus’s addiction, though, especially as time went on

“klaus, you need to pull it together. i really think you should go to rehab. just try it out?”

“but i don’t want to part with you for that long! i’ll be lost!”

“don’t worry, i’ll still be here when you get out”

patching him up when he got hurt, which was often

“aw, my shirt has blood on it. that’s too bad, i liked this one”

“you know, klaus, the blood gives you some character”

“you know what? you’re right!!”

he would go on the wildest tangents about his family sometimes, five superpowered siblings (+ vanya), a billionaire for a father, a robot for a mother, and monkey.......totally normal childhood

sometimes he’d see his sister, allison, on the tv and watch whatever it was she was in, he thought she was magnificent

he really did miss her sometimes

“you know, they were all the worst siblings you could ask for, but they are my family. i wonder how they’re doing right now...”

“do you want to visit them sometime, i can come with”

“oh, nonono, you don’t want to do that, we may try to kill each other!”

“i believe that”

him finding vanya’s book and reading it with you in tears

“i know, klaus, i know. she didn’t mean to hurt you, i’m sure. she made the wrong decision”

“she just told the world about very private family matters! what else was she trying to do?!”

klaus and you stuck together for a few more years, but the day he found out his dad died was....it was something

he was laughing, crying, popping open the champagne, crying some more, hugging you tightly, and singing happy songs

“y/n...will—will you come to the funeral with me? please?”

“yeah, i can do that”

the house he grew up in was HUGE

he insisted on giving you a tour while he snatched up trinkets to sell

“put it back...”

“but it’s mine!”

passing by his other siblings and awkwardly waving

“who are you?”

“excuse you, this is my very best friend in the whole wide world!”

okay, it was a lot more uncomfortable that you expected it to be

especially when “number one” dumped the ashes at the funeral and then “number two” started shit talking their dad, and klaus started laughing when they started fighting

passing his cigarette back and forth

okay, and then he suddenly had a 13 year old brother fall from the sky

“klaus, are you sure we were smoking a cigarette?”

“i’m never sure of anything anymore, darling”

“that’s reassuring”

the little brother did not give a flying FUCK who you were

smth about the apocalypse

babysitting klaus as he spiraled out of control bc of his family

uh, losing klaus several times

and then he got kidnapped

and then he time traveled to the 60s and fell in love???

he told you all about dave

“he sounds amazing, klaus. do you think you could conjure him?”

“that’s not a bad idea! i just need to stay sober!”

easier said than done

apocalypse apocalypse apocalypse

now you were all in on that

you never thought that your accompaniment to a funeral would lead to several shootings, murders, and traumas.......wow

you really felt out of place

his sistee ended the world. you know, vanya, the one you thought had no powers

so his brother, five, time traveled the lot of you to the 1960s, but you landed alone in texas

“klaus? klaus?! anybody???”

having to cope with the fact that you were going to have to acclimate to living in the past on your own, it could be worse

you could have died in 2019

you went on for another year or two trying to keep your head low

but you ran into a familiar face soon

“allison?”

“y/n?”

although you didn’t know each other very well before this, you were ecstatic to find someone in the same situation as you

soon everyone began finding each other and also the world was gonna end again

reuniting with klaus

sobbing while you hugged him

“y/n, oh, my god, i can’t believe it’s really you!”

“i missed you so much, this has been such a wild ride”

“welcome to the hargreeves family”

ben, who you couldn’t hear: “he wouldn’t shut up about you!”

this new timeline was decidedly not a vibe

“you know, the 60s fashion i can live with, but everything else? complete trash i would like to go home”

everyone had to protect you because you didn’t have powers and they actually kind of cared about you?

klaus would also absolutely lose it if you got hurt

he would tell you all about his cult every moment he got

also he let you hang out at his mansion

but there was no time to hang out, you guys REALLY had to fix the timeline in any way you could

after becoming fugitives, you went to a barn for an epic *final battle* where you died lived bc five changed the timeline

getting back to 2019 only to find that it was......not the same at all

“i think...i think we may have fucked up”

“yeah, i’m going to have to agree with you there”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @cullens-stuff // @lotsoffandomrecs // @takethebladeawayfromme // @tessacabrera // @teenwaywardasgardian // @spidergirla5 // @sheridans-dynamos // @freya-xo // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @jay-is-groovy // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

[moonflower-31]

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer x Reader

Masterlist 

Part 25 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader 

A/N: So, if you haven’t noticed, I’m gonna do one every other day with this so I don’t get burned out again. Hope that’s constant enough for you! Sorry about my little hiatus but I should be good now! 

Warnings: Talk of murder, PTSD Flashbacks, the usual stuff. ��

Also, Feedback is really appreciated :)

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of reality - Edgar Allen Poe 

Unfortunately for you, serial killers didn't know how to wait. So not two days after Spencer had finally been able to be home with you were they called on a case. Their first one without you since you were hired. 

It left you with a slight dull feeling in your heart as you sat curled up on the couch reading the same page over and over as you kept losing focus. Morgan had stayed, as Spencer had promised. But he was currently asleep in Spencer's bed. Something about it being softer than his own with Savannah. Whatever that meant. 

You grumbled and closed the book after your fifth attempt at distracting yourself from how lonely you felt. And how the nagging feeling of thinking you're being watched didn't go away, even with Morgan’s less than helpful presence.  

You sighed and put the book down on the coffee table and picked up the remote instead. You flipped through a few channels until you find the news channel was having a 'Breaking News' segment. When the title appeared on the screen you almost screamed. 

19 year old Arthur Grant goes missing from his family's estate, reward not yet posted. 

You widen your eyes, your hands beginning to shake. Why? Why you? Why must you be overloaded with so much grief and trauma? Did some bereavement mailman decide to ditch his route and dump all of the bad stuff on your doorstep? 

You didn't even have tears that came to be shed. You'd cried so much the past week that you had run the banks dry and squeezed more than at least 5 headaches out of you. And each of them having lasted at least 4-5 hours. Sometimes more. 

Instead of your normal first step of denial, or depression in the stages of grief you unfortunately knew too well, you found anger boiling up through your feet, making your toes curl and your fists clench. You were pissed. Everyone around you was suffering because of Peter's self-absorbed, narcissistic, and sociopathic God-Complex. And you were sick of it. 

You didn't care who heard, who came running to see if you were okay. You just couldn't hold back your frustration anymore: you screamed. 

You threw the remote against the couch, still having half the mind to keep from destroying it. It was still Spencer's property. You didn't exactly have the 20-40 bucks to give to replace it. So, precautionary aggression was the best course of action. 

Your hands found your hair and gripped tightly, letting out a frustrated and loud grumble. You could still see his cocky smirk, his evil eyes as they stared at you like you were nothing but a good fuck to him. You could hear his sickening laughter in your ear, and you could hear the rumble of the gravel underneath the tires of his stupid truck. You were almost there, same feelings, same feeling of paranoid, survival instinct came rushing into your decision making controls and overrided them.

You were engulfed in the flashback, seeing him, feeling the cold metal of the cuffs around your wrists as they dug into your skin, the shiver of having your clothes ripped off of you like you were some prize he had won, it was too much. 

You were panting and holding your head, trying to make sense of everything and trying to get a grip on your own reality. You ended up backing up into the dining table and sending things to the floor. This only amped up your paranoid reaction, causing you to be on guard, but thankfully the flashback was able to end. 

Then, some poor soul decided to knock on the door. Your eyes snapped towards the mahogany door and you let out an instinctive growl. You then began stalking towards the door, sneering and baring your teeth. 

As you made your way towards the door, a pair of protective arms wrapped around you, preventing you from opening the door or causing anymore ruckus from your rampage. 

"Woah there feisty, what was all that for? I thought you were seriously in trouble." 

Morgan’s calm but worried voice was like a fire extinguisher to your anger and your guard, calming you down in a matter of minutes. The fire quelled inside of you, being replaced with a lake of sadness and pain. And unfortunately, that meant that instead of anger, well, you had to deal with tears. Which you had recently come to find were annoying as hell. 

"Morgan…" you breathed, letting yourself become almost limp in his arms. You felt the tears building, almost climbing inside your eyes. You couldn't do this. You couldn't face him again. Face these memories. But you were fucking stuck with them. You had no way of forgetting them. Ever. Thanks to your stupid memory. You didn't want it. You wished you had a normal memory, or at the very least an eidetic memory like Spencer's. At least then you could forget some things. But you? No. No the only things you couldn't remember were whether or not your parents ever really nursed you or even held you when you were an infant. Even the things you did remember weren't pleasant. No warm glow, no blanket colors. Just the cold, monotone voice of your father introducing you to your 'future staff'. 

Morgan held you, not asking you any questions. He just let you begin to cry and let out your frustration on him. Your balled up fist gently hit his chest a few times as you wailed and inaudibly tried to explain what you thought had happened. He didn't stop you, just tried to sooth you as the knocking sounded again. 

You froze in Derek's arms, the knocking now being persistent and fear-inducing now that you had your overly cautious mind back. 

"D-derek…" you whispered. Derek shook his head. 

"I'll get it, alright? You stay right here." He says, gesturing for you to stay. He didn't have to tell you twice, you were still hiccuping from your sobs. 

Derek slowly approached the door, looking through the peephole before opening it slowly. "Hey… you should've called first. We might've been able to answer quicker." 

All of your fears and concerns and panic all ceased at the sight of the man, well more of a boy, that stood in the doorway. 

You stood there in disbelief as you called to him, hoping you weren't seeing things. 

"Arthur?" 

○●♡●○ 

Spencer sighed as he was put in charge of the geographical profile yet again. He had a newfound routine in having you help him with it so much so that he found it harder to do his job. 

Not to mention his mind was filled with worry about how you were at home. How your well-being was, if Morgan would be enough company for you when you had the nightmares he knew you had after everything. He'd been the one to comfort you after each and every one in the hospital. He just hoped that Morgan could still comfort you while he was away. 

Not only that, but a certain Real Estate Broker had his mind doing flips and his eyes seeing red whenever he thought of him and what vile thing he could be planning next. Spencer hated being away from you. Especially when everyone knew by now that Peter was a snake and was easily able to slither away. And to sneakily find you as he had done before. Spencer was thankful now that he had asked you to stay with him in his apartment rather than your own. If you were staying in yours, the chances of Peter finding you were 90-100%. And he hated those odds. 

So safe to say, Spencer's mind was at odds with itself. And to top it all off all he could think about was what it would be like to squeeze the trigger and kill Peter himself. For you. That's all he wanted was revenge for you. He'd have to make sure he didn't instigate anything, so that it would be seen as self defense. But he would love to feel the backlash of gunfire if it meant that Peter would be dead. And you would be safe. 

"Hey, any progress on that profile yet?" 

Spencer looked up and saw JJ standing in front of where he stood next to the map, having found himself lost in thought with his fist clenched around the little box of pins in his hand. 

 "Oh, uh… no, not yet. I was just… distracted is all." He admitted, pulling out the box from his hand and pinning the last two locations for the dump sites. 

"From what I can see just from first glance is that the dump sites seem to be within 6 or 7 miles between each other, give-or-take." Spencer expressed, trying to flip on his work brain to no avail. He soon found himself thinking of you before he finished his statement. 

JJ looked at him with a sad smile. "You're worried about her, huh?" 

Spencer was caught off guard by JJ's question, causing him to turn towards her a few seconds later. "Huh? Who?" He asked. 

JJ gave him a slightly teasing look. "You know who. Garcia told us and the rest of the team about your little crush on her. Apparently she overheard you talking to your mom a few weeks ago. Said you loved her." JJ reveals, a gentle and motherly smile on her face. 

Spencer felt a warmth rise to his cheeks, suddenly feeling much warmer in his cardigan than usual. "S-she did?' 

JJ nodded. "Mhm. It's okay, Spence. Besides, I kind of figured after how you carried her back to the ambulance. She was snuggled up on you. And you refused to let her go until you knew for certain that the lead medic had an actual medical license." JJ teased gently. 

Spencer sighed and rubbed his neck, closing the box of pins so as to not spill them all over the carpet. "Is… is it that obvious?" 

JJ nodded again, a slight giggle on her lips. "Am I or am I not a liaison for the BAU?" She asked, obviously giving him a half hard time. "But seriously, I know you're worried about her. We all are. But she's gonna be alright. Morgan’s with her. Even with a busted knee he can wrestle any man to the ground." 

Spencer sighed. JJ was right. The only reason Morgan had been taken by Peter was because he caught him off guard and was shot before he could shoot first. He was more than capable of protecting you. So why did he feel so badly? 

Spencer rubbed his face and put the box down on the map's marker holder. "I know, JJ. I just… I can't help but worry about her. What if she has a nightmare and I'm not able to be there to comfort her? Wh-what if she has a panic attack and I can't get to her cause I'm all the way out here in South Dakota?" He asked, his worries getting the best of him. 

JJ lifted her non-full hand and laid it on Spencer’s shoulder, no matter how much taller he was than her. "Spence. She's going to be okay. We have people watching over your apartment building on Strauss's orders. They're doing it on their overtime. I think she's safe. Even then, you're just a phone call away, right?"

Spencer sighed again, now noticing that JJ carried with her a coffee in her hand that wasn't on his shoulder. JJ laughed. "I'd be wary of the day you don't smell coffee when it's available. You're lucky it's for you." JJ teased, handing the warm cup to him. 

Spencer took it and took a quick sip of the liquid. "Thank you, JJ. Really. I… I really needed this." He says. JJ nods. 

"I figured you did. Now I gotta go address the press. They're gathering like vultures out there. So I gotta be their food source." She jokes. Spencer laughed and nodded. 

"Yeah… actually, most vultures tend to go for larger prey than the usual roadkill, as that is more sustenance for them-" Spencer began to ramble. JJ laughs as he caught himself. 

"Yeah, just like every animal it seems." She answers before he leaves the room, opening the door wider as Garcia bursts into the room with her laptop. 

"Reid! Reid I think I might've gotten word about Peter!" 

○●♡●○ 

"Arthur?" 

Your brother chuckles slightly and rubs the back of his neck. "Surprise? Please don't tell me you've watched the news. You know how dramatic mother is. I told her I was going to come visit you and-" 

He didn't get to finish his sentence  as you very quickly engulfed him in a hug. You felt short, as he had grown much taller than you. But you didn't care. He was still your little brother. And you loved him. 

"Y-you're okay… you...you've grown so much…" you begin, looking up at him as you pull away. Arthur's arms had very quickly reciprocated your hug, enjoying the first bit of contact he has had with you since you left. 

"Yeah, apparently somewhere in my genes there's supposed to be another inch or two. But I think I'm done." He laughs, laying a hand on your head. You smile at him, your panic completely gone at this point. 

Derek raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms from where he stood. "(Y/N), you wanna tell me who this is?" He asks. 

You look over at Morgan and laugh softly, Arthur having given Morgan his most awkward expression. He really hadn't changed much. 

"Derek, this is my younger brother, Arthur Grant." You introduced. Then you turned to Arthur. "Artie, this is SSA Derek Morgan. He… He was the agent P-Peter captured alongside me." 

Arthur widened his eyes and held out his hand to Derek as he gulped. "N-nice to meet you. T-thank you for protecting her. She's really all I've got." He says, rubbing his neck. 

Derek smiled and gave Arthur a firm handshake in return. "It was my honor, Arthur. I'm glad she's got some real family left. Not that her work family isn't good." He jokes, nudging your arm. You rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself. 

"Hey, as a wise man on Supernatural once said, 'Family don't end in blood'. And I think that qualifies here." You giggle softly, happy to have found even a small bit of happiness and willingness to be able to express it freely. 

Arthur shook Morgan’s hand gladly and smiled his signature smile, looking back towards you. "Hey, uh… sis? Can we… can we talk? I haven't seen you for… what is it… five years now? I just wanna catch up." He expresses, his eyebrows turning up genuinely. 

You sigh, but nod. "Morgan, can you go into the other room while we talk? Just for a half hour?" You ask. Morgan shrugs and nods. 

"'Course kid. He's the only member of your damn family I'll trust. Just don't be gossiping without me." He teases as he leaves the room. You giggle softly as you watch him leave. 

"So… how have you been? O-other than-" Arthur began, his awkwardness taking over. You sigh and hold up a hand and look at him sadly. 

"Artie… please, let's just… not talk about that. I'm dealing with it. That's all that you need to know right now. You might be taller than me, but that doesn't mean that you're gonna know all of my secrets like an older brother." You tease, guiding Arthur towards the couch. 

Arthur playfully rolled his eyes and followed you, mocking offense. "Oh come on, height has to factor in there somewhere Sis." 

You shake your head and take a seat beside him on Spencer’s couch, sighing gently. "Nope, sorry little bro." You insist. 

Arthur smiles at you and leans back on the couch, sighing as he looks at you. "(Y/N/N)... you… You have no idea how much I've missed you. I pushed myself to graduate with all honors because of you. I got a scholarship too. In business. Because you always pushed me to do better. To do my best. I… I want to do something for you in return. Please. Name it. I can start making it up to you." 

You give Arthur a joking look and shook your head. "No need, Arthur. Besides, that was all you. You just needed the extra push. I'm so proud of you." You say, laying a hand on Arthur's arm. He smiled at you and took a sigh, signaling to you that the conversation was about to take a turn. 

Arthur's hands intertwined with each other and he leaned over for a moment, his elbows digging into his thighs. "(Y/N)... Look I… I know you said you were okay but…" he sighed again. "Mom she… she forbade me from seeing you in the hospital, I promise that's the only reason I wasn't there. After I promised to testify against her for you she banned me from leaving home." 

You widen your eyes, your mouth gaping a bit. "Arthur… y-you're testifying?" 

He looked up at you and nodded. "Yeah. She assaulted you at work and literally sold you, sis. If I can put her away, along with him, I'm gonna do it. For you. I want you to be safe. I may not be your older brother, but I want you safe too. I'm gonna try and protect you like a brother should. I couldn't do much as a scrawny 13 year old you know." He chuckled. You laughed briefly, a smile teasing at your lips. 

"Yeah… not really." You giggled. He shook his head and laughed back. 

"Ha ha. Very funny. But really… it's good to see you sis. I… I'm sorry I didn't do enough for you back then." He exhaled, his expression solemn and regretful. You take his hands in yours and give him a reassuring look. 

"Hey, just as you said. You were a scrawny 13 year old. What much could you do?" You point out. Arthur sighed. 

"I could've protected you. At least told Peter to scram at least once." He grumbled. You shake your head and smile at him. 

"I think I did that enough for the both of us." 

Arthur smiled softly and looked down, showing you his vulnerability when it came to you. You squeezed his hands gently, assuring him it was okay. 

And you both sat there in each other's company for a few more moments of silence. It wasn't an awkward one, so there were no awkward feelings.  

Arthur spoke up a few minutes later, having come up with an idea. "Can… can I at least pay for your therapy? I can pay for it with the money dad gives me. You… you need to see someone. I saw someone, you pushed me to go see Dr. Francesca and now I see her every two weeks. Please… let me do this for you." 

You sighed as Arthur began to try and persuade you. Damn him and his puppy eyes. He still had the gift. 

"Tell you what, how about we call Derek back in here and we watch some procedural cop show that we can all laugh at and I'll tell you what I decide later?" You narrowly avoid. Arthur thankfully notices this and drops the question. 

"Only if the show is dumb enough for a citizen like me to laugh at it." He settles. 

You giggle and nod. "Deal!"

[whump-town]

Comfort

Each member of the team comforting Hotch while he’s sick/hurt

1.

“Spencer.”

Reid jerks at the sudden intrusion, his brain struggling to pull itself from the novel in his lap. “Haley,” his eyebrows pinch in confusion before he looks down at his wristwatch and red letters flashback at him the time; 7:15. He’s been here for five hours. “I-I…”

She smiles softly, he recognizes the look from earlier. Hotch had given him the same sad-eyed smile as Reid failed to keep the pressure on his wound. Reid had never seen an example of couples adopting one another characteristics before. He finds it to be both unnerving and amazing.

“Lost in your head,” she asks, coming further into the room. She glances at him once more before going to Hotch’s side. She slides her hand under her husband’s, whispering something too soft for Reid to hear and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “He says you have a-a tendency to get lost in your head.”

Reid is silent. He’s been to their house a few times. Only after Gideon dumps whatever plans they made, it seemed he’d get off the phone with the older man and within the hour Hotch would call. He’d some odd knickknack for Reid to see or a StarTrek marathon to offer.

Haley runs her fingers through Hotch’s hair, unsettling it from the hold the gel Hotch had put it in that morning. “It’s good you’re here,” she says, looking up at him instead of Hotch. Haley’s an intelligent woman, keeps Hotch on his toes. Reid holds a soft spot for her, she makes him feel warm and safe. The same way Hotch does.

A soft grunt sounds from the bed between them, Hotch shaking his head loose of the oxygen canal. His head is turned, his eyes open and all he sees is Haley. “... tried-” he shifts on the bed, pain shooting up his middle as the movement pulls sore muscles. “Sean?” He croaks the name out, lost in times that passed long ago.

Haley glances up at Reid once before centering her focus on her husband. She soothes him softly, shushing him when he tries to pull away from the IV in his arm and the sheets over his hips. “Aaron-Aaron,” she brushes a hand through his hair, smiling when his attention shifts back to her owlish blink. “Hey,” she brushes her thumb across his cheek. “Sean is safe. He’s in New York, remember? Gonna be a chef.”

Hotch swallows thickly, brain turning this information over slowly. “Not-Not a lawyer,” he recalls.

Haley smiles with a shake of her head, “no. Not a lawyer.” She moves over him and positions the oxygen canal back under his nose. “You’re safe too, Aaron.” Her smile fades back into that sad-eyed, soft smile from earlier. “Agent Reid is with you,” she says motioning her head to Reid.

Reid can see the confusion in Hotch’s brow but he turns his head and settles his eyes on Reid. There’s no scrutiny. If Reid didn’t know better he might say fondness is the crinkle in his supervisor’s eyes.

“Your team is okay,” Haley adds squeezing his hand. “Everyone’s okay.”

Concussion. Reid’s mind helpfully deduces. They hadn’t done a brain scan when Hotch was admitted. There was no real reason to suspect brain trauma with a bullet to the abdomen. Not when Reid hadn’t told them about the crack that sounded through the room when Hotch hit the floor.

The concussion is to blame for Hotch’s sluggish thoughts and obvious confusion. “Dad?” Reid’s never heard Hotch’s voice raise to an octave like that, an inflection of fear. Haley’s eyebrows tighten, clearly aggravated but not at Hotch or his confusion.

“No,” Haley says forcing herself to relax. “He’s dead, Aaron.”

Reid’s never seen so many emotions cross his boss’s face at once. Relief immediately followed by sadness and the clench of his fist that Reid loses the meaning to because he can’t tell if he’s reacting to physical or emotional pain or maybe he’s angry.

“Dead,” he echoes. His brow scrunches in confusion and Reid can see the realization cross his eyes. The ‘dead’ sinking in. “Oh.”

Haley tries to direct his attention back to Reid. “Don’t worry with him, Aaron. Spencer’s here,” she nods her head again but it’s becoming very clear that Hotch is fighting a losing battle against the narcotics streaming in his veins.

“Mm,” Hotch turns his head to Reid. He smiles and lifts his hand from the bed, a tired wave.

Haley brushes a hand through his hair again, catching his attention. “Get some sleep,” she doesn’t move away. Instead, her hand continues to work through his hair, slowly easing him lower and lower into sleep. “Shh.”

Reid can’t see Hotch’s eyes flutter shut but he can see the last deep breath he takes before they even out.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Haley says, settling into the visitor’s chair on Hotch’s left. “He worries about the team when he’s away from you.” She says this without looking at him. Her attention is on Hotch’s face, half-turned to look at her. “He worries about you the most.” Her eyes rise to his and she shakes her head with a sigh. “He’s always worried about something or someone.”

He’s a protector. They’re not supposed to profile one another, it’s a rule between them all, but it doesn’t take a profile to note that Hotch is a protector. It’s what he does. “It’s what makes him so good at his job,” Reid looks up, forcing a smile on his lips. “He’s a good boss.”

Haley chuckles, a soft sound and a puff of air from her nose. She sighs, thumb rubbing against the back of Hotch’s palm. She doesn’t say anything. Exhausted, her shoulders are hanging low and for the first time, Reid sees just how tired she is.

2.

“Hey…” Emily puts her novel down. Hotch’s vision is foggy but he catches the horrendous orange and blue blur as she forces the book shut. His mouth feels thick, heavy and his head like tiny dancers balanced on thumbtacks are tap-dancing across his brain. “I didn’t expect you to be up.” Her eyebrows pinch, “doctors said they have you on some powerful stuff.”

He rolls this information over in his head, her voice drowning in and out with his heartbeats. He can feel it, his heart, beating through with the pain in his side. “Vonnegut.” He’s a favorite of Emily’s, he can faintly recall a conversation she’s had with Morgan about him. “It’s-It’s…” he’s read a few of Kurt Vonnegut’s works.

Emily takes a moment to understand his slurred speech. She holds the book up with a smile, “yeah. Kurt Vonnegut.” She thumbs through the pages, confused. “How-How did you know that?”

The title is revealed as she leafs through it. He places it then, a burden lifted from his chest. Breakfast of Champions. Kilgore Trout and his journey through the midwest as his fiction becomes another man’s facts. That’s not her favorite though and that copy, it’s new. It’s the same copy that sits on his bookshelf. “Vonnegut,” Hotch mumbles like she should have put this all together herself. “He’s your favorite,” his voice cracks through the sentence, hoarse rasp cutting off what remains of the sentence.

Emily understands well enough. “How-” she shakes her head at him. “I don’t want to know how you have managed to remember that.” She’s not that surprised. They live by the rule of not profiling one another but it’s hard to turn it off.

“ Sometimes, I get tired of being profiled through my office window.”

“New,” he croaks, he points to the book now on her lap. He swallows thickly, brain forming the words but mouth unable to form the right ones. “You had an older copy.”

Before. Emily taps the cover, he’s right. She carried one of his books everywhere, a comfort to curl up on the jet on the way home with some tea and a blanket. She knows the most of the books by heart, her old copy was dog eared and the cover faded. A small part of her felt comforted, now, just sitting here reading.

Like old times on the jet.

“I lost it,” she answers truthfully. No real point in lying when he might be able to see it. If there’s one thing she knows about Hotch, it’s that you can never underestimate him. “I-I didn’t think to ask JJ to grab them from my apartment.” She shakes her head, “everything was so… It was all so crazy, it would almost be silly to worry about a couple of books in the face of everything going on.”

It takes a moment for him to place what she means but blood loss hasn’t made him stupid. He knows exactly what she means. She must see the clarity in his eyes, the moment he realizes what she means. She starts talking, nervous. Her hands come together and he’s listening to her nervous words but he’s focused on the way her thumb digs into her nails.

“I-I don’t blame you and JJ, you know?” She draws blood but she whips it away. She doesn’t raise her eyes to his. “That’s not important, though, the books or Doyle. You did what you had to do to protect me, I know that.” She moves to the next hand, digging. “It’s funny- well, I mean it’s not funny but you know humor overrides trauma- but the last time you and I were in the hospital-”

She looks up, eyes moving straight past him to the heart monitor. She glances back at him, eyebrows frowning. “Shit,” she stands up but before she can say anything there’s a nurse grabbing her shoulder. She’s pushed out, the heart monitor still sounding in the background. She’s forced to watch from the doorway as a doctor swarms in with the rest of the nurses.

She’d been talking with Rossi earlier in the week, so he knew that she’d been sent back to the states. With her own case solved, she came to Virginia to meet them. To see them. She just hadn’t been expecting Rossi to text her the address of a hospital.

“Agent.”

She turns to the doctor, tearing her eyes away from Hotch. He’s glaring at a nurse, watching her dispense a clear cocktail of drugs into his port. “Y-Yeah?” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“He can’t be put under any strain,” the doctor’s voice is tight, making it very clear to Emily how important it is she listens. “Do you understand, Agent?” They stand, locked until Emily nods her head. It’s like Foyett, that fear and his vulnerability. That same warning, all over again. “Okay.” The doctor leaves her, small frown but no more words.

“Sorry.” His voice rasp behind an oxygen mask now. The straps pushing his peppered hair up in odd directions. His eyes are slits, his battle with sleep a losing one.

Emily settles back into the chair, pulling her book into her lap. “You know, Hotch, next time you want me to shut up you can just ask.” She can see him smile under the mask, a rare sight. “No need to-to stop breathing or have a heart attack on me.” She thumbs the pages, the words feeling wrong. She didn’t come to taunt him. She misses being on the team. Hell, she even misses him profiling her profile him. Mind games. He’s the best.

“Read.”

She’s so lost in her mind that she hadn’t realized she’d opened the book. She looks up, confused, “read? I thought you want me to stop talking?”

He turns, paler than even his normal vampire tan, and shakes his head. “No,” he motions his head at the book, again. “Just read.”

It’s all the “I’ve missed you” she’ll ever get so she cracks the book open. It doesn’t matter where she left off because it doesn’t matter to him. “So, in the interests of survival, they trained themselves to be agreeing machines instead of thinking machines. All their minds had to do was to discover what other people were thinking, and then they thought that, too.” She looks up and his eyes have fallen shut, his breathing even and steady. She turns the page. He’s asleep but she continues anyway.

3.

“Woah-Woah!” Morgan’s ears are ringing, his head empty. He gags, falling over himself as he loses half the sandwich he had at lunch. He can’t move, frozen as his stomach cramps painfully. A hand, warm and solid lands on his back. After a moment, his eyes lock onto black dress pants and a blue dress shirt. “Hotch?”

The other man doesn’t react to the sound of his name. Instead, he pulls Morgan up. Hotch’s arm is looped under Morgan’s and they both groan as they stand back to their feet. Morgan, now eye level with Hotch, frowns, “Hotch, you’re bleeding.” He points to the wound but it’s like Hotch can’t hear him.

“We have to get out of here!” He’s speaking too loud, body trembling. Morgan moves as much as he can in Hotch’s grip and sees the side of his head. Two small streaks down to his collar, both starting in Hotch’s ear. Morgan doesn’t mention it but he suspects Hotch knows he’s caught it. “Come on.” Morgan frowns, Hotch’s eardrums really can’t handle being burst again.

They stumble.

Hotch keeps Morgan up, his face unnaturally pale… even for him. “We can’t stop,” Hotch grunts, his own feet shuffling. He tries to take another step but he can’t. He falls to his left knee, releasing Morgan. “Go,” Hotch grunts, body curling in on his right side. “Go, Derek!”

Morgan isn’t a child and no matter how low Hotch drops his voice it doesn’t scare him. He drops to his own knees, exhaustion seeping into his bones. He moves, throwing his right hand out and leaning against the wall as he settles his back on it. “Come on, Hotch.” He waves the older man closer, patting the hard cement beside him.

Hotch doesn’t move, now settled on his side. His eyes dropping, slowing losing consciousness.

Morgan moves and bites down a whimper as it lights up his side. He pushes himself a little more. He grabs Hotch’s shoulder hooking his arms under Hotch’s and pulls them both against the wall. Sighing as he positions Hotch beside him, the other man’s head on his left thigh.

“A fucking bomb,” Morgan mumbles. That’s how it’ll end. Some punk kid and a bomb with their names literally written on it. “This isn’t how I thought it would end.”

Hotch blinks, eyes slowly finding his. Morgan shakes his head, so the bastard isn’t as deaf as he thought. “Not surprised,” Hotch grunts, his left hand pulling away from his side sticky with blood. “Kind of figures,” he lets his hand fall back over the wound, fresh blood pouring over his knuckles. “Get stabbed nine times and some pipe bomb does me in.”

Morgan laughs, his head rolling back to the wall behind him. The mood turns bitter and Morgan can’t help but feel cheated. “Did the other’s get out?”

Hotch grunts, it’s as much of a yes as he can manage at the moment. “Dragged Reid and JJ out myself.” He’s trembling, shivering despite the sweat pouring down his brow. “Emily was going to come back in for you but I-I told her I’d get you.” He smiles, “two kids grabbed her when I turned to come back in. Morons. Garcia looked like she was going to pummel them both.”

They share a laugh at that. The poor kids are probably sporting bruised ribs by now. Almost everything she knows about self-defense Morgan taught her. He’s a dirty fighter and Hotch knows Morgan teaches dirty fighting. Garcia, though neither had ever personally been hit by the tech analyst, they’d seen a person or two get swatted with her purse. She’s got an arm on her.

“Rossi?”

Hotch’s smile falls off his face. Morgan looks away, afraid of the emotions he sees creeping over his boss’ face. His voice isn’t as steady. It’s heavy with fear,” I don’t know.” Silence fills the clouded air between them. Both considering the fate of their friend. “Derek?”

Morgan looks down, Hotch’s head bent away from him. He’s blinking slowly, face ashy. “Yeah, man?” A pang of fear rolls through his stomach, coiling tight in his chest. His heart hurts. They’re running out of time, Hotch is running out of time.

“I never thanked you…” his voice trails off, eyes fluttering as he fails to keep them open.

Morgan swats at his face, keeping it up until Hotch blinks his eyes back open. “Never thanked me for what?”

Hotch swallows thickly around the dryness in his mouth. “After Foyett,” he rasps, “the hole in my wall. I know you fixed it.” He turns his head, blinking owlishly up at Morgan with half-open bloodshot eyes.

Morgan nods. It was the hardest repair job he’s ever done and he wonders what it was like for Hotch to clean Elle’s blood off her wall. Morgan reaches down between them, grabbing Hotch’s hand with a tight squeeze. “That’s what families for.” He doesn’t let go, just lets his hand fall on Hotch’s chest as the other man fights consciousness. “They’ll find us. They always do.”

Hotch hums and Morgan doesn’t know if it’s in agreeance or in pain. It doesn’t matter. Morgan knows they’ll come. They have to.

4.

“You really shouldn’t fall asleep, sir.”

She watches him blink his eyes back open, a dark iris settling on her. She knows he’s not mad at her but his face is still twisted in aggravation. “Garcia,” he says, in a voice much lower than even his normal baritone. “Now is no time for formalities.”

His eyes slide back shut. She glances back at him and kicks his knee, grimacing when he startles. “I asked you not to fall asleep,” she reminds him when he looks less than pleased. He doesn’t shut his eyes though, he stays awake. “How are you, Hotch?” She’s genuinely interested. He doesn’t get to talk to her that much anymore, she feels like she hardly knows him these days.

He leans his head back against the wall, eyes open but unfocused. He’s not sure how he is. His heart hurts. “I’m fine, Penelope.” His dark eyes find hers, half-hidden as his eyes blink drowsily. He catches the hint when she frowns tightly and she’s surprised by the little smile on his lips. “I really am fine. Beside this headache, of course.”

She tries not to dwell on how bad the headache must be if he’s admitting to it. Instead, she soaks in the warmth of his little grin. “Well,” she’s much gentler when she knocks her foot against his knee this time. “Tell me how ‘fine’ is treating you. I feel like you never talk to me anymore.”

She’s keeping him talking. She can see the gash across his temple and she’d been forced to watch as their UNSUB brought his gun across Hotch’s head. Leaving only her to witness the way her boss’ legs crumbled beneath him, limply his body hitting the ground beneath him. He’d been so limp as the UNSUB picked him up under his arms, dragging him to a side room.

His grin falters just a little at her wording and he supposes that maybe he hasn’t been talking to her as much as he thought he was. Then again, how does short phone calls about serial killers count as talking? “Jack’s growing up so fast,” he tells her, his grin a soft mix of sadness and pride. “He’s almost as tall as me, isn’t that crazy?”

She smiles, “it feels like yesterday you were pushing through the bullpen in his little stroller.”

Hotch shakes his head, “starts high school this year and… I’m terrified.” He leans his head to the side, against the wall. “He’s so grown up. I feel like he doesn’t need me anymore and then-” he’s full-blown smiling and Garcia finds is contagious. “Then he comes into my room or he strikes up a pointless conversation and I know all he wants is for me to be there. To ask about his classes and listen to him gush about the girl in his English class. He still wants me around after…”

Garcia can sense the switch and she reaches over, taking his hand. “Hotch…”

He shakes his head, wincing at the movement. He puts a hand up, touching at the edges of the wound. “I killed his mother, Garcia.” His voice is devoid of all the joy it just held and she blames it on the concussion. She wants this to be the concussion and not how he actually thinks. “I would understand if…” he winces again, this time fingers probing a little too hard and he draws blood.

He swallows thickly, face paling considerably. “Penelope, you’ll have to excuse-” he’s half up-right, leaning with his side on the wall as he vomits. He brings almost nothing up, just gagging miserably.

Garcia turns her head, rolling her eyes. JJ always taunts Hotch, behind his back of course, for his ‘southern manners’. She’d seen it for herself a few times but this certainly takes the cake. However, she’ll never betray his confidence to tell the others about Hotch trying to excuse himself with a bad concussion to puke in privacy while being held captive by a killer.

“You okay, boss man?” She only looks back at him when the gagging stops and she can hear him position himself back against the wall. He’s still pale, shaking from the strain of holding himself above his vomit.

His eyes are closed but she can see he’s not sleeping. Just trying to calm back down. “Probably should have eaten lunch,” he replies softly, right arm protectively draped over his stomach. She would be mad if she expected anything different from him. It’s just like Hotch to bring the others sandwiches or coffee and to send them home to sleep but to starve and deprive himself of sleep at the same time.

She hums in agreeance. “You should start eating more period.” That catches his attention. He peels an eye open, frowning at her. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I see it all. I know everything.” She points to his chest, “I’ve noticed your shirts don’t fit you like they used to and when they did fit you, you didn’t have weight to afford losing more.” She raises an eyebrow, daring him to challenge her. “You’re going to put the weight back on, sir. Even if I have to start hand-delivering you breakfast and lunch.”

He opens his mouth but she raises her hand. “Nothing you say can change my mind. In fact, I think I will.” She bites her lip, “let’s see… JJ and Reid. Yeah, they’re your soft spots. The chinks in your unchinkable armor. You won’t be able to tell them you’re starving yourself.”

He sighs, head still tilted back but resigned to his fate. “Penelope?” His voice is soft, devoid of fight and, dare she say, tinged with fatigue. “Thank you.”

She smiles at him and stands, moving over until she’s sitting beside him. She pulls his hand into her lap, squeezing it. “Anything for you, my liege.” Because someone has to protect the man who protects everyone else. He’s hurting and someone needs to be there.

And when his head falls on her shoulder she doesn’t say anything.

5.

“For once in your life-” Rossi is so close to just decking his former protégé in the face and letting Derek haul his body up on the couch. “Goddamn it, Aaron!” Then, at least, Hotch can’t sneak away and refuse to sleep or take care of himself.

Hotch flinches, fever-ridden bloodshot eyes looking at Rossi in confusion. Carefully masked fear trembles down his hands and Rossi doesn’t dare try to act like he doesn’t see it. Right, he’s not being helpful if he’s being an ass. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm back down.

Rossi knows Hotch doesn't respond to over-controlling authority. He was abused by his father, Rossi knows that. Hell, Hotch has never once admitted to it, but they all know it.

Rossi runs a hand down his goatee, tired of fighting the stubborn unit chief. “Here,” he hands Hotch a palmful of pills. There’s a vitamin C from Emily, a Tylenol from JJ, and some colored flu medicine from Derek. It wasn’t hard to convince them to fork over their supplies. Hotch had emerged once from his office all day and the man looked like a walking corpse.

With JJ fielding Hotch’s calls, Rossi forging his signature on a few things, and Garcia clearing his meeting with Strauss in an hour they can afford to let him take a well-deserved rest.

“I have paperwork,” he rasps but knocks the handful of medication back into his mouth. He’s smart, he can argue his way out of the nap he’s cornered into but it’s pointless to push Rossi on taking medicine.

Rossi rolls his eyes, “lay down, Aaron.”

He hesitates. Rossi watches Hotch’s inner debate with himself. He frowns, looking away to the couch before nodding. Giving in. Rossi sighs in relief, he thought that was going to be much harder but maybe Hotch going down without a fight is more a bad thing than good.

“Is something-” for once in his life, Rossi isn’t sure what to say. He swallows thickly and shakes the thought away. “Here,” Rossi takes a step back, moving to grab the blanket sent up by Garcia. It looks well-loved and it’s soft in his hands, heavily scented with fabric softener. He lays it over his protégé with a small sigh. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time. He should have never left the BAU.

He shouldn’t have left Aaron.

“Get some sleep, kid.” He cuts the lights off to the office, standing in the doorway a moment too long.

“Dave?” Rossi hums, eyes still on Hotch. The other man’s on his side, blanket pulled to his chin. His voice is nasally, finally giving in to his symptoms instead of trying to pull off his stoic baritone grumble. “Whatever you’re thinking,” he pauses, gathering the right words. “There’s no need to punish yourself.”

Rossi rolls his eyes and opens the door, stepping out. “That’s very thoughtful, Aaron, but we’re not supposed to profile one another.” He pats the doorway, fondly rolling his eyes. “Get some sleep mio figlio.”

Hotch chuckles, “I know what that means, Dave.”

Rather than let himself dwell in being caught, he laughs himself. “Yeah,” he shrugs. “I would certainly hope, Aaron. I told Jason you were a smart boy, quick. I would hope age hadn’t stolen that from you.” He lingers again.

“Dave, I’m fine. Really.” His voice softens, “go.”

Rossi puts a hand up in submission, “alright. Alright.”

As soon as Rossi shuts the door he knows all their eyes are on him. Garcia’s the first to gather the courage to ask, “how is he?”

Rossi’s smile is soft but happy. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes for the pure drama that is dealing with Aaron Hotchner. “He’s getting some much needed rest. He should be fine.” He chuckles to himself, “he’s just a bit stupid. Too hard headed for his own good.” Rossi steps towards his own office, glancing through the window. Aaron’s already asleep. One hand dangles off the couch, a foot on the floor as the other stretches over the edge of the couch.

He’ll be fine.

6.

“Hold still.” Stupid. For such a smart woman, well rounded, and agile she could be so stupid. She knew what she wanted to do. Liaison. She loves talking with people, offering comfort, and engaging the public. Sure, she didn’t give that job up but she’d give anything to go back to the station. “Hotch, please!”

He’s bleeding all over the two of them. His exhales wet as blood trails out of the side of his mouth. A muffled cough that he attempts to spare her as he rolls onto his side but he’s out of his mind in pain and can’t muffle both the cough and strangled cry on his lips that the movement causes.

If JJ had stayed a liaison, she wouldn’t be looking her friend in the eyes as his blood pools wider around them. “Aaron,” her voice is the only soft thing to happen to the room. From the moment Hotch’s knuckles rapped on the door to her screaming, mixing in the living with the sound of guns firing. “Aaron, please don’t do this to me.”

He blinks up at her, cheeks ashy and lips paling. He gasps, voice trembling, “it’s okay- I’m fine.” His left hand moves atop hers, larger than both of the ones she’s pressing into his side. “If you just…” he blinks sluggishly, too much blood around them and not in him. “Just keep applying pressure even if I- even if I pass out.”

JJ shakes her head, “you’re not passing out!” She pats his cheek, blood smearing on his ashy face. There are two days worth of hair on his cheeks and the bags under his eyes so much more prominent. “Talk to me, please?” Dark eyes blink back slowly, his adam's apple bobbing as his mouth opens but no words leave his mouth. “Tell me something. Keep talking because I can’t lose you.” Her voice thickens with unshed tears, “you’re my friend, Aaron.”

His eyes sink back shut but he opens with the first tap of her hand against his cheek. He draws his knee up, body wanting to writhe away from the pressure on his abdomen. He can’t keep his knee drawn up and it limpley slides back down. “Do you-” his voice is thick, sluggish as it leaves his mouth. “How do you not hate me?” He swallows, mouth impossibly dry, “you didn’t need to know about Emily.”

He’s right. Alone he could have faked Emily’s death. He could have bore that cross and she would have been spared the guilt of being amongst the knowing. She wouldn’t have had to work to be friends with Spencer again.

She shakes her head, “you do make me mad, you know that right?” She wipes a hot tear away from her eye, “but I’m glad you told me. It would have destroyed you, it almost destroyed the two of us with each other to lean on.” She looks up, certain she can hear faint sirens coming. She smiles down at him, “we’re like… Sonny and Cher. Batman and Robin. We’re a team and I would hope there is never a time when you spare me, Aaron.”

He smiles but whatever he opens his mouth to say is lost in his weak coughing.

She looks up, this time certain she hears sirens and doors being shut.

“Hold on, Hotch. Helps here.”

He grins, pale and sweaty. He squeezes her hand, “hey, JJ?”

She squeezes his hand back, “yeah?”

“Am I Batman or Robin?”

She sees an unbelievable amount of mirth in his half-open brown eyes. He’s exhausted, tired of fighting and weak from bloodless but he’s smiling up at her. Holding on, for her. She smiles back, gently she leans over him and kisses his cheek. “I’ll let you be Batman.”

The room is flooded in loud noise. Heavy boots stomping right up to them. In the commission she nearly doesn’t hear his whispered remark. As a paramedic hangs a bag of saline above his head and another takes JJ’s place he calls her name.

“I’d be Robin for you.” He blinks much slower, eyes hardly coming back open. “ ‘think you’d look better with a cowl. I could pull off a domino mask.” His eyes fall shut, a lopsided grin on his face. She brushes his bangs from his sweaty forehead, watching the medics do their job. She’ll remind him of this later and she’ll bring up his guilt over Emily.

But for now she just holds his hand.

(I really enjoyed writing this so if you have any idea similar I would be very interested to hear them... also originally posted on A03)

[agerefandom]

Books and Pigments

(art by @sparrowinged​, story written for @sparrowinged​)

Fandom: Critical Role

Characters: Regressor!Caleb, regressor!Jester, featuring Mama!Nott, caregiver!Ford, and the rest of the Mighty Nein in the background (Beau, Yasha, and Molly)

Words: 3,000

Summary: Upstairs, Jester gives Caleb a bath and they both find the process nostalgic. Downstairs, the others discuss ‘somechildren,’ people who never fully grow up. They’re well-known in Wildemount, but much more accepted on the Menagerie Coast.

Content warnings: ‘Little’ is used as an adjective, but not a noun. Caleb’s backstory is briefly alluded to, as is memory loss from trauma. There is drinking (done by adults). Nott is considered a mother and is referred to as such.

Note: I’m only on episode 47, please excuse any backstory gaps!

Nott was the last to join the table, crawling onto a chair and grabbing a drink that was already on the table, downing most of it in one go.

“Nott!” Molly greeted her from the other side of the table, raising his own tankard to her. “Are the others not coming?”

“Jester has insisted on giving Caleb a bath,” Nott said once she was finished with her beer. “I left him in her capable hands.”

“Capable at many things,” Fjord pointed out. “I hope she’s feeling kind this evening, or Caleb may be in trouble.”

“He’ll be fine.” Nott crawled partly onto the table to drag a plate of meat towards herself, tucking some of it into her pockets. “He does have magic, after all.”

“So does Jester,” Beau said from across the table. Nott flapped a hand at her dismissively.

“Caleb is better.”

“Okay, but if the two of them were in a fight,” Beau started, leaning forwards.

“Jester would win,” Yasha finished.

Nott glared at them both, crossing her arms. “You don’t have enough faith in him,” she said reproachfully. “He’s a very powerful wizard!”

“Yeah, but have you seen Jester’s biceps?” Beau asked.

Nott gave up on the battle in the interest of fitting as much ham as possible into her mouth, and the conversation moved onto arm wrestling shortly after that, shifting with the usual chaos of the Mighty Nein’s evenings off.

--

Meanwhile, upstairs:

Jester was gentler than Caleb had expected, double-checking the temperature of the water and adding another half-bucket before gesturing for Caleb to undress. She hovered around him, snatching his clothes as he removed them and folding them to lie on the bench by the door. Once he was naked, she ushered him towards the washtub.

Sure enough, the water was perfect as Caleb sank into it, not hot enough to scald but warm enough to turn his pale skin rosy as it met the surface.

“Look at your freckles!” Jester cooed, poking Caleb’s shoulders as she bustled around him, preparing the soaps. Caleb hunched forward, self-conscious despite himself. They had all been in the public baths together, and had helped each other with their armour many times. Nevertheless, he was aware of his scars and spots, and didn’t appreciate Jester’s wandering hands.

“Relax,” Jester ordered, as if sensing Caleb’s wandering thoughts. “I am a good girl, I can keep my hands on task.” This was apparently all the warning she deemed necessary before dumping a bucket of lukewarm water over Caleb’s head, plastering his hair over his face until he spat it out of his mouth and tried to push it back.

“Leave it!” Jester’s hands batted Caleb’s away, and she guided him to lean against the edge of the washtub, combing his hair back with sudsy hands. “You’ll just get it more dirty with your stinky fingers.” Caleb was about to protest her wording when she started to dig her fingers into his scalp, and he abruptly found himself melting into the touch. He had not had someone else wash his hair for a very long time, not since far into his childhood. He closed his eyes, although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to chase the memories or push them away. Parts of his childhood had been missing when he’d returned to himself, gaps in his memory that led to disorienting echoes like Jester’s fingers in his hair. Jester’s voice brought him back from the confusion, humming a quiet tune that Caleb did not recognize.

Caleb found himself drifting through the rest of the bath, with Jester’s hands shielding his eyes from the suds she rinsed out of his hair, guiding him from position to position so that she could rub sweet-smelling lotions into his hair, his cheeks, his back. She even washed the bottoms of his feet before smearing a handful of soap into his palm and gesturing for him to finish the rest of his body. Through every motion, her humming got louder, until she was singing little pieces of foreign songs to herself as she brought over the final bucket of water.

The washing water had become quite dirty, and Jester rinsed Caleb’s body with the last fresh water as he stood up from the tub. She wrapped a soft blanket around him and tugged him out of the bath with a giggle. Caleb followed where she led, feeling pleasantly distant and oddly content.

Jester sat him on a stool and started to comb out his hair, making tiny braids as she sang those little snatches of simple but unfamiliar songs.

Jester had been singing for long enough that her speaking voice almost startled Caleb when she put down the comb. “Do you want to take a nap?” She ran her hands through his hair. “Or I could give you a haircut.”

“Nap,” Caleb said quickly. It was the preferable of the two options: Jester had been gentle enough with the comb, but he didn’t want to test their luck with a sharp blade near his ears. “Nap is good.”

“Naps are the best,” Jester corrected, pulling Caleb off the stool and towards the door without sparing a glance at his clothes. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Clothes,” Caleb managed to protest.

“Who needs clothes?”

“Me!” Caleb managed to pull his wrist free of Jester’s grasp and scoop up his abandoned clothes with one arm. His outer layers and everything important were back in his room, but he didn’t want to leave things in the bath room to get taken.

“We’ll get fresh clothes in your room, but I want to nap in my bed,” Jester said, in a tone that invited no challenges. Caleb nodded and followed her down the hallway, watching Jester’s skirts swish as she skipped past each door, her tail bobbing behind her. She stopped outside of Caleb and Nott’s room, gesturing for Caleb to go in and get changed. Caleb wandered into the room, sat down on the bed, and decided that he didn’t want to get up. The warm water of the bath and the gentle washing had made him too sleepy, and there was no way he was budging.

“Caaaaleb,” Jester whined from the doorway. “I want to go to my room!” Caleb ignored her, leaning back on the mattress and wrapping his blanket tighter around him. It was soft and perfect and he wasn’t leaving, no matter how loudly Jester protested. “Caaaaleb!!” Although her voice was rather disturbing the tranquility of the room. “Nap in my room! Get your clothes!”

With a huff, Caleb rolled sideways off the bed and managed to collect a few items of clothing, stumbling towards Jester in the doorway and accepting the hand she had stretched out towards him. She pulled him down the hallway and into the room that the girls shared, shutting the door behind them before jumping at the double bed with an impressive leap and rolling across it in a blur of petticoats and skirts.

“Sleepover, Caleb!” Jester popped back up to sitting, and patted the bed beside her enthusiastically. Caleb wandered over and she pulled him down on the mattress with a little more force than necessary. It was very comfortable, Caleb acknowledged. Maybe even more comfortable than the bed in his room. He wiggled back and forth to get himself properly wrapped up in his blanket, and then let his head rest against the covers of the bed. Jester was arranging herself beside him, wrapping one arm over his swaddled side and pulling him back against her. She was inhumanly warm, impossibly cozy, and as she started to hum a quiet song, Caleb felt his eyes drifting closed.

--

“Oh, that was nothing, remember the time that she decided to drop a box of manure on that priest of the Allhammer?”

“Classic!”

“Y’all think Jester is a troublemaker now, you should see her when she’s feeling little,” Fjord offered to the discussion. “No one is safe.”

“Jester’s a somechild?” Molly asked, leaning forwards. “I’m surprised I didn’t realize sooner.”

“Oh yeah. She isn’t little often.” Fjord finished his drink and wiggled it in the air for a refill. “Sweetest thing but a handful for anyone. I met her when she was little, actually.”

“Are somechildren more common where you come from?” Nott asked.

“Yeah, the Menagerie Coast is a lot better about them,” Fjord said. “Nicodranas has a whole district dedicated to them, and it’s the loudest part of the city. Empire kids come there all the time for a break, I hear.”  

“Most of the Empire’s not big on them,” Beau confirmed. “Never understood why, I think they’re sweet. And it doesn’t stop Jester from being the most badass tiefling I’ve ever met—no offence, Molly.”

“Jester can have the baddest ass as long as I have the sweetest,” Mollymauk laughed. “Also, I bet I could take Jester in a fight.” Beau made a doubtful sound. “What, don’t believe me? I’ll go and get her now, settle it here.”

“Fuck yeah!” Beau sprang to her feet. “I’ll come with you and get her.”

“Two gold on Molly,” Nott muttered to Fjord.

“I’ll take that bet. He’s gonna go easy on her.”

“You clearly don’t know him well enough,” Yasha interjected. “He doesn’t go easy on anyone over the age of fifteen.”

“Either way, I think we’ll be spending our bet money repairing the bar if we don’t convince them to take it outside,” Fjord pointed out, and made to follow the two who’d already left. The others brought their drinks, but trailed obediently up the stairs to watch the outcome.

--

“They only need to drink every few days, and retrieve much of their hydration from the plant matter they consume.” Jester giggled at Caleb’s fancy words, focused on the drawing that she was working on. “They can eat up to seventy-five stones worth of vegetation in a single day, but do not kill the trees they feed on.”

“They eat stones?” Jester asked, reaching for a different colour.

“Nein!” Caleb laughed. “Die bäume! Leaves!”

“Ohhhh.” Jester added a rock anyways in the grass. “Keep reading!”

“Um… The trees of the area are best known for their wide leaves, and their layered appearance.” Caleb’s voice was different when he was reading, his accent lighter with the care he used in pronouncing each word. Jester looked critically at the tree she had already drawn and was about to start on another one when the door opened.

“Here they are!” Molly’s voice came from behind her.

Jester turned with a smile, putting down the stick of pigment that she had been using to draw. “Hi Molly! Caleb is teaching me about South Marquet! Have you ever seen a giraffe?”

“Can’t say that I have, sweetheart.” Molly leaned himself against the doorframe, all sparkly and pretty. Jester wanted to draw a star on his cheek, but she would have to wait until he was asleep, probably. “Have you?”

“I saw one in a cage once! It looked like this!” Jester showed Molly her drawing.

“Hmm, that’s pretty neat.” Molly came closer to look at it. “You’re a very good artist, Jester.”

“I know I am!” Jester had to lean around Molly’s legs to look at Caleb. He was curled up on the bed with a pile of blankets around him, a big book open on his lap. He’d stopped reading when Molly came in and now he looked like he was trying to hide himself in the blankets. “Caleb, what are you doing?”

Jester received no answer, only a muffled squeak from the pile of blankets. She pushed herself to her feet, ready to go extract her friend from his hiding place, but Fjord walked in the door and she froze, tucking her hands behind her back and puffing out her chest.

Fjord’s gaze travelled over the room before landing on her, and he sighed. “Jester, you know you’re supposed to come and find me when you’re little.”

“I’m not!” Jester protested. “I’m big!”

“Uh-huh. Because I know for a fact that big Jester wouldn’t be very happy to get pigment all over her nice blue dress, and tends to use paper like a big girl, and not draw on the walls of an inn that she’ll have to pay for.” Jester glanced back at her drawing, which was indeed on the wall of the room.

“That was Caleb,” she tried. “I didn’t do it.”

“Oh.” Fjord nodded understandingly. “And did he get pigments on your dress as well?”

“Yep!” Jester bobbed her head. Thank goodness, he was going for it! Maybe Caleb would get in trouble and she would get to watch.

“Alright.” Fjord got really close to her, all unfairly tall and wide and green. “Let me see your hands.” Jester hesitated, but when Fjord put his hands out, palms-up, she obediently put her hands into his. He traced the lines of colour on her palms, showing where she had held the sticks of pigment. “That’s what I thought.” He dropped Jester’s hands and she hunched her shoulders, embarrassed at being caught in the lie. It wasn’t her fault! Fjord was just really smart. That was why he was going to the Academy when they got there!

“You ready to be honest with me?” Jester nodded her head wordlessly. “That’s good. Are you little, Jester?” Jester couldn’t help pouting at the question, but she nodded anyways. “Thank you. And why are you supposed to come and get me when you’re little?”

“Cause it’s dangerous,” Jester sighed. “And I could get hurt.”

“That’s right.” Fjord put a hand on the top of her head, right between her curved horns. “We’re visiting the Empire right now, and they aren’t as friendly as in Nicodranas, so it’s important to stick close.”

“Okay.” She didn’t know why they were visiting the stupid Empire anyways when people in Nicodranas were so much more fun. Stupid Empire. Stupid Fjord.

“Where’s Caleb gone, anyways?”

Jester lifted her head to see that Molly had left the room at some point, and Caleb had effectively hidden himself in the blankets, with only the still-open book poking out from the pile.

“He’s playing hide and seek!” She shook off Fjord’s hand and bounced towards the bed. “Caaaleb, I’m coming to find you!” Caleb stayed quiet, but Jester knew where he was. She pounced on the pile and sure enough it squirmed underneath her, trying to push her off.

“Lass den Quatsch!!” she heard Caleb protesting, and she rolled off with a giggle, helping him remove the blankets. Once Caleb was revealed, he was pouting, his hair a staticky mess from the struggle.

“Found you!” Jester pulled him in for a hug and he allowed it, wrapping his arms back around her. When she finally released him, he wriggled backwards into the blanket pile again, pulling one around his shoulders. Caleb sure liked blankets a lot!

Jester glanced over her shoulder at Fjord, who was watching them curiously without saying anything.

“Do you want to play with us? You can hide next if you want!”

Caleb made a sound like a deflating balloon and flopped forwards, his blanket covering his head.

“Stop that!” Jester pulled him back up to sitting. “You’re not supposed to hide anymore, I found you.” Caleb whined, tugging against Jester’s grasp on his blanket.

“Caleb?” Nott appeared in the doorway as if summoned by the noise, and was pushing Jester away before she could even blink.

“Hey!” Jester protested, trying to get back to Caleb.

“You were hurting him!” Nott accused, standing between them. She was eye-level with Jester like this, with Jester kneeling on the bed, and she looked super mad and scary.

“I wasn’t! He was hiding!”

“Mama?” Caleb’s voice was quiet, but Nott immediately turned to him. “She’s nice.”

“Okay. I believe you.” Nott gave Jester a second look, still not looking very friendly, and then swept Caleb up in a hug, her arms and legs wrapping around his shoulders and torso. Caleb buried his nose in her shoulder, and Jester subsided onto her butt, letting them have their moment.

“Do you want me to send them away?” Nott asked, her voice quiet. Jester was still close enough to hear the question.

Caleb shook his head, and Nott detached from him, lowering her feet to the mattress and keeping one hand on Caleb’s cheek. “Okay.”

“I understand why you were asking about the Menagerie Coast now,” Fjord said from behind them. “Didn’t realize you were a caregiver.”

“Mother,” Nott corrected him, stroking clawed fingers through Caleb’s newly clean and shiny hair. “I did tell you that he was my boy.”

“Right, right.” Fjord nodded. “I’m sorry for intruding, I didn’t know he and Jester were playing together.”

“He was telling me about giraffes!” Jester said, pointing to her art again.

“He’s a very clever boy, isn’t he?” Nott sounded proud. Jester thought she was probably a really good mom. She could tell those kinds of things about people.

“He can read all kinds of books and he doesn’t even sound really funny most of the time when he’s reading!” Jester said. Caleb made a ‘hmph’ sound. “I mean, he doesn’t sound funny at all ever!” she added. “He’s really smart.”

Caleb’s hands reached for the book, pulling it onto his lap and hugging it to his chest.

“Would you read to me again?” Jester asked, scooting forwards on the bed. “I was really enjoying it.”

“Do you want some paper for your illustrations this time?” Fjord asked, already holding it out in her direction.

“Yeah!” Jester stretched her arms out and waited for Fjord to bring it over. “I can make you more pictures!”

“Mm-hm.” Caleb opened the book and spent a few seconds flicking through the pages before settling on one, looking up and waiting for everyone to settle down. Fjord closed the door and took a seat on the floor by the bed once Jester’s paper had been delivered, joining the audience for Caleb’s story. Caleb glanced nervously at him, and then up at Nott standing beside him.

“You are very good at reading,” Nott told him. “But you don’t have to.”

Caleb cleared his throat, put one finger under the line he was reading, and started again. “The trees in the region are best known for their wide leaves and layered appearance.” Jester started on her drawing, all four of them settling in for an unplanned quiet evening.

[randomobsessionsofa30something]

Want to binge watch a kdrama? Try these 13 kdrama rom-coms from 2015-2019.

When I watch a drama for the second time I don’t really pick complex dramas I instead prefer watching the ones that I know I’m gonna have a fun time watching. I picked 13 of my favorite rom-coms of the last five years that I just can't get enough of. I think you'll enjoy watching these dramas again and if you haven't watched them then now is the time!

1. Oh Hae Young again. This drama is as funny as it is intense. Eric (Shinwa) plays the CEO of a sound effects company. He hasn’t get over his past relationship with his last girlfriend Oh Hae Young. Then he meets another Oh Hae Young who is known for throwing herself to love with all she’s got and was just dumped by his fianceé. He starts having visions about her.

2.  I remember you (Hello Monster). This 2015 drama is the one I’m currently rewatching and the one I’ve watched the most. The romance is not the main focus but it has some sweet moments. The story is about two kids that were hurt by the actions of a serial killer and now grown up they’ll try to catch him while solving murders at the same time. The cast is so good. This is one of the few dramas I would have loved if they’d done a second season.

3. Strongwoman Do Bong Soon. There’s dramas that I finish and just start watching again. That’s what happened to me with this one. It’s just such good fun. The story is about a girl who has enhireted the gift of being really strong. When a CEO of a game developing company finds out he hires her as a bodyguard.

4. She was pretty. Park Seo Joon and Hwang Jung Eum made a lot of good dramas the last few years some I added to this list. However this witty and sometimes ridiculous comedy was the one that I enjoyed the most. Super Junior’s Siwon made a stand out performance as a second lead. The drama tells the story of Hye Jin that reconnects with her childhood love but is embarassed by the way she looks. Her pretty best friend pretends to be her and meets him for just one time. When Hye Jin gets a new job she finds out her childhood friend is her new boss.

5. Oh my ghostess. This was  Park Bo Young’s breakthrough performance along with Kim Seul Gi and Jo Jung Suk they made a hilarious bunch. The story is about a shy cook that is possesed by a ghost. She ends up making a pact with the ghost to help her get close to her boss a famous chef.

6.  Hyde, Jekyll, me. This drama is based on a webetoon and actually it wasn’t as popular as I thought it would be but I really enjoyed it. Hyunbin plays a CEO with a complex past that suffers of disociative identity disorder. When his heart rate passes 150 he becomes Robin. Park Jimin is a circus master that becomes close to both of his personalities.

7. The girl who sees smells. JYJ’s Park Yochun and Shin Se Kyung star in this fantasy comedy about a girl who sees smells and uses her powers to help a detective solve murders,

8.  Weightlifting fairy Kim Bok Yoo. Honestly I was frustrated with Kim Book joo (played by Lee Sung Kyung) for about half of the drama but there’s too many hilarious scenes that make this drama just great fun. The story is about a female weightlifting athlete that has a weight complex that makes her question whether she should keep competing at all. Nam Joo Hyuk plays a swimmer with a trauma that keeps him out of the competitions and is Kim Bok Yoo’s former classmate.

9. What is wrong with secretary Kim? This has to be one of the best adaptations of a webtoon. The hilarious relationship between Kim Miso and Lee Yeon Joon are off the charts funny. Past wounds, an awkward personality and overconfidence will get in the way of Yeon Joon’s (Park Seo Joon) goal of stopping his secretary from resigning by giving her what she wants: a boyfriend.

10. Beauty Inside. Seo Hyun Jin is so good at doing comedy. Just like in Oh Hae Young again her character in this drama is all over the place and seems to attract trouble. She plays an actress that turns into a different person a few days once a month. She meets the CEO of a major corporation that just like her has something to hide: he can’t recognize faces. Ahn Jae Hyun and Lee Dae Hae play the secondary couple and honestly I got into their relationship even more than the main one.

11. Fight my way. Long time best friends Ko Dongman (Park Seo Joon) and Choi Aera (Kim Jiwon) have a very playful and silly relationship that starts to become something more. Meanwhile their best friends have been in a six year long relationship but go through trying times when a coworker sets her eyes in Ahn Jae Hong’s character. 

12. Lucky Romance. The plot of this one is mostly ridiculous but hella funny to watch. Bon Nui, a programmmer that is struggling to pay for her sister’s medical bills, does everything a fortune teller asks her to keep his sister alive who is in a coma. She’s told the only way to save her sister is to sleep with a guy that is born in the chinese years of the tiger. Sooho is a genius game developer that suffers from a past trauma and is born in the year of the tiger. 

13. Her private life. This sweet fun rom-com from last year is about a curator that moonlights as a fangirl. However her double life is at risk of being discovered after her new boss tries to enlist her idol for the next exhibit. Her relationship with her boss soon changes.

[loverontheleft]

Long anon has thoughts and I’m here to reply but also I’m fucking wasted

Okay, different anon, but I love giving unsolicited advice (joking, joking... kind of), so I had to chime in. Plus I think I’ve read RtL like 2 or 3 times in full now (way more if you count all the times I’ve read a chapter because of the sex scene and then just kept reading after that), so I’m very invested. God you’re better than me. I didn’t mind chapter 30. It wasn’t my personal favorite scene (that’s just really not my jam, if I wanna revel in the angst, I prefer the later chapters), but with some tweaks I do think it was a good addition. Like, it did give the relationship a little more, I’m not sure if this is the right word, respectability? Realism? Weight? It showed that they’re not just clouded by lust or the honeymoon phase. Which is where I get into the conflict of fanfic imagine writing vs fiction writing. Most fanfic readers seem like they don’t want the plot and the character growth and the realism. The point is fantasy. I can do that short-term, but in a long-haul series like this…angst is necessary. Tension is necessary. Their relationship doesn’t exist in this perfect little bubble, it’s “perfect” because they’re really compatible, and that’s even more important than love in a longterm relationship. It showcased how much Brendon is devoted to his work, which is one of the reasons the reader loves him, but it has the real possibility of causing real issues that they need to address and work through. Now, again, it needs a little work. I don’t love that B basically accused the reader of being intentionally malicious, and I also don’t love that she was more of the victim rather than it being a two-way conflict. I think it could’ve had more of a build-up (I know you said you sort of wrote this without a plan so it makes sense that the build-up wasn’t as much as I think it needed to be, but, hey, that’s the beauty of rewriting it.) and oh rewriting it will be a thing eventually. Like she doesn’t love that he’s overworking and she brings it up a few times throughout like 3 to 5 chapters before nationals, and it sort of gradually goes from the reader going, “hey I think your hyperfocus on your job is starting to affect both your quality of life and our relationship” (obviously in a way that’s more writer-y and less information dump-y lol) to “I’m starting to feel like a toy you play with when you’re interested and completely ignore when you have homework.” And then Brendon’s responses starting at, “oh I’m sorry, babe, I’ll manage my time a bit better,” all the way to, “why don’t can’t you respect my career?” Then in chapter 30, it all comes to a head and they full on fight instead of the previous semi-passive-aggressive communication they had before. I like you; you understand what my brain is trying to do with this rewrite.

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, as much I think fighting and arguing can be healthy and necessary, I HATED the fight in chapter 19 (at least I think it’s 19. The one where he’s like, “just talk to him, you’re being crazy”). No it’s totally bullshit I hate it too; even writing it I was like ughhhh. I love your work and I don’t want to be rude, but this is just how I feel about one chapter in an otherwise beloved series. It’s not rude; that was jammed in there for the plot and god I hated it then and I hate it now it’s just bad writing. It’s that I just think it was so out of character, for both of them to some extent, but especially Brendon it was. Maybe it’s just the reader projecting her ex onto Brendon when she’s feeling distressed, so that’s why he seems SO different from the way he was in previous chapters (hell, even earlier in that chapter no it took a sharp left turn it’s a bad chapter) and than every other chapter afterward which okay can we agree Chapters 18-26 are whaaaat is happening and 27-31 are ?? and 32 is steamy forgiveness and then 33-36 are smut but so little plot and…oh god I have so much to rewrite I’m gonna cry but he’s so fiercely passionate and protective over, not just the reader, but sort of everything that he cares enough to invest time into (teaching, music, the reader, lovemaking 😏😂, etc.) that don’t think he would’ve proposed talking to the ex at all, much less become all cold and calculating and downright rude when talking to her. I almost think it would be more realistic if she said, offhandedly, “maybe I’ll just talk to him, try to get rid of him, give him some money, I just want this over with,” and Brendon AT THAT POINT would be like, “no absolutely not, you’re being crazy/irrational .” And then it would turn into a big fight because the reader not only feels condescended and invalidated, she’s starting to feel controlled and smothered, which in conjunction with all the feelings that have been brought up with the ex in town, makes her feel like she just needs to get away from B. I guess that wouldn’t have the same effect later on at the end with the lockdown drill which I really want to cut, good lord Cece it was so extra wtf (full disclosure: at the time of writing, the school where I was a teacher had an active shooter in the area but not on campus, so I was probably processing that?? See my note below about writing as therapy), but it would still kind of work. Instead of B realizing that the reader was right about the ex, it would be the reader realizing that B really just cares for her wants what’s best for her, and ofc B would have to apologize for saying that the reader’s crazy because that’s sooo shitty. Actually, now that I think about it, that might be more effective. Other than that one argument, there wasn’t a big question of whether or not B respected the reader and her judgment, but with the ex showing up, the reader was getting scared about being in another serious relationship and being so dependent on someone else oh definitely. Doesn’t help I was using writing as my therapy since I was very out of a mentally abusive six-year relationship. I just peppered in my own trauma left and right (drunk Cece put left and write at first lmao) and left the characters to figure it out and that’s not fair to y’all so it would be much better narratively to confirm to the reader that she can trust Brendon and that he cares for her even if he messes up rather than to just have an argument that gets resolved. Which would work too if it weren’t for the fact that the characters and dialogue were so off, just maybe not quite as well. Lots of changes to be made; you’re not wrong.

Okay, I’m sorry for talking your figurative ears off omg no I love it this is a craft revision and I’m so here for it. Feel free to say I’m way overstepping because, well, I am, but I’m a fan okay!!! Idk if you’re overstepping I’m too drunk but I don’t deserve fans I’m crying yall are so wonderful And I overthink EVERYTHING, so there’s that too haha same though. These are just things to consider and jumping off points, so don’t let it change whatever you have planned. I’m sure it’ll be great, and frankly, I mostly read for the smut anyway so I don’t know why I’m so invested in the plot LMAO this is why I’m worried about Dulce being a slow burn y’all just want the smuuuut and @beautiful-tragic-fallout can tell you there’s a huge difference between my fanfic writing and my fiction writing though you’d think they’d be similar. Maybe I’ll just write it as a novel, never post it here, hope it sells, and one day y’all can be like “this book plot sounds familiar… I remember this slut who wrote a bunch on tumbl—wait, is this author actually Cece?!?” Because, reminder, Cece is an abbreviation of my second middle name and very few people actually know it at all and my published fiction writing isn’t under Cece (I’m mostly joking, but really, as long as the porn’s good, you could write anything well, thank you.) I’m sure this whole ask is riddled with typos and forgotten words and bad grammar (brevity has never been my strength), so I’d also like to apologize for all that. Listen I’m so drunk right now…I didn’t even notice. And my responses probably are too.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Being Simon

Chapter 1: The Past

Chapter 1/2 (All chapters)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count:  8493

Summary:  Simon's type of therapy is...unusual to say the least. He has the incredible chance to go back in time to fix what he regrets. However, things get more complicated when Simon meets someone very interesting in the past.

Read on AO3

AN: Ahahahaha I did it!!! I finished a fic! That's a big achievement for me nowadays tbh. This has taken forever because stupid fucking health, but I did it! Of course I'm not 100% good with it but I'm still proud. Being Erica is one of my fave shows ever and is severely underrated imo. Then I saw this post and was like "oh damn that would be great for snowbaz." Now like three-four months late, here we are! Big thank you to @carryonmylovelies​ as always. She has been a big support for me through this writing slump. I couldn't be more grateful for her <3

World basics: time travel therapy is a thing, no further explanation given, and going back in time to fix past regrets teaches patients how to live better in the present. Patients take over their past selves' bodies for a bit. Patients can return from the past either suddenly or by stepping through doors. So just imagine Simon doing that. Saying much more is spoilers. 

I’m gonna post chapter 1 today, then chapter 2 sometime within the next week. Hopefully y'all like it!

———————————————

You know that guy who’s got it all? A perfect job, a perfect partner, wonderful family, a life that people are secretly jealous of? You know that guy, everyone knows that guy. Unfortunately, I am not that guy.

My name is Simon Snow, and I’m a fuck up. But I’m getting better.

“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow!” Cassidy shouts, waving her hand, “I know the answer!”

“Cass,” I say, “what did we say about inside voices?”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Keep the volume down for all those around.”

“Exactly. Now, try again.” Cassidy raises her arm with no added sound effects. I point my chalk at her. “Cassidy, what’s the answer?”

She puts her hand down, grinning wide. “It’s 42.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Nice job, Cassy, right on the money.”

She gives me a big high five. The feeling of accomplishment surges through me. God, I love this job. My old customer service work made me feel dead inside. Day in, day out, same old fucking garbage from garbage customers. It was just never something I wanted to do. Now I get to see a little girl smile, and I helped her smile. Yeah, little self centred, but I’ll take it.

“Patrick,” I say, “can you tell me how we can find 8 times 4?”

Patrick nods and starts rattling off the technique he’s come up with. It’s a bit odd and round about but all his. That’s what I love about kids, the strange and unique things their little minds come up with. It’s why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place, before I lost my way.

The bell rings and everyone's on their feet immediately. “Alright everyone,” I shout over the clamour, “make sure to finish chapter three for tonight. And get your worksheets done! We’re going to go over them with a fine toothed comb. Have a good weekend, kids.”

“Bye, Mr. Snow,” they all parrot back. I wave them off, then start on my laptop. Being a teacher means having a lot of paperwork. (Or Google Doc work, I guess.) Everything is in mismatched folders and I have to scour them for my lesson plan draft. Unfortunately, I’m still not great at organization, but I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot in my life.

My phone rings. I look up from my screen, and notice there’s no sunlight from the windows. Holy shit, how long have I been sitting here? I quickly grab my phone. “Hello?”

“Simon!” Todd shouts. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, uh, hi Todd.” Fuck, what did I do this time? “I-I’m still at work...”

He scoffs. “Of course you are. Shit, Simon, I’ve been sitting at Casper’s for an hour!”

My heart drops. I look down at my watch. It’s 6:34. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, love, I just totally lost track of time-”

“Yeah, I guessed that. I should expect that of you now.”

Well, that stings. A lot. I’ve felt like a screw up my whole life, so much so even my parents didn’t want me. Like they had some prophetic vision that their kid would be a no good moron. Therapy has started to rid me of those thoughts, but they still creep up every once in a while. Like now.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. We can go to my place, have take away-”

“No, Simon,” he sighs. “I just...I picked the day, the time, and the restaurant. All you had to do was bloody show up, and you couldn’t even do that. I mean...do you even care, Simon?”

A horrible, familiar pain goes through my heart. I can still hear Agatha’s voice all these years later. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My thoughts get all muddled up, mixing up old fears and trauma with today.

“I do care, Todd, I really do. I just- I didn’t- I was- We can-”

“Please stop..” He sighs again. I can almost see him rubbing his pretty black eyebrows together. “Don’t stress stutter, it’s alright. Enjoy your work and takeaway.”

“Uh, could we reschedule?”

“No, we can’t.”

I gulp. I hate that I know what’s coming. “Are...are you too busy?”

“No, I’m just...I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Simon. Hope you do well. I mean that.”

I slump in my chair. “Okay. You too. Bye, Todd.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

He hangs up, but I keep the phone by my ear. My body feels too heavy to move and get out of this fucking chair. Once again, I screwed up my relationship. And the fact that it’s too familiar is even worse. This is what, the third partner I’ve lost in the last year? An abysmal track record. Before that I had been alone since uni, yeah, but I think it was better than feeling like this.

Slowly, I pack up all my stuff. Everything is quiet, like the world is in mourning for my latest lost relationship. Self centered as fuck but a nice thought. I sling my book bag over my shoulder and walk towards the door. It’s not even a shock when I don’t enter the foyer, but step through and end up in Dr. Margaret’s stony yet brightly lit office instead, complete with torches and pristine furniture. It’s like some medieval version of an IKEA showroom. Dr. Margaret is sitting in her chair with a book in hand, obviously waiting for me. Just another day with a super powered therapist who has her office in a pocket dimension outside of our reality. (That’s my theory anyway).

I speed walk forward and flop down face first on her white couch. “Hi to you too, Simon,” she says. I groan into the cushions. “Good day, huh?” I groan louder. “Tell me what happened or get off my couch.”

I move my face to the side, glaring at Dr. Margaret. She just keeps looking at me blankly from her large leather chair. Dr. Margaret has little time for my whining, something I usually appreciate. “Todd broke up with me.”

“You poor baby.”

I narrow my eyes even more. “Aren’t therapists supposed to be all sympathetic and shit?”

She scoffs. “Sympathetic when you’re not being pathetic.”

“My boyfriend just broke up with me, I’m allowed to be a bit pathetic.” I rub my very strained forehead. “I always get dumped.”

“Mhm.” Dr. Margaret picks up the notepad, the one I filled with my regrets the first day we met. It’s embarrassingly long, but a lot are crossed off too. “Tell me about ‘breakup with Agatha.’”

I groan, head falling back against the couch. “God, that’s one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Stop groaning and tell me.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” I sit up and put my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temple. Headache is coming. Though I’ve started to actually pay attention to my health and take care of myself now (thanks to Dr. Margaret), the headaches still happen sometimes. Especially when I think about this.

“It was 2003,” I sigh. “Agatha and I had been together for six years. Just before third year finals, Agatha broke up with me. I got really pissed at her. Turned into a huge screaming match. She said I didn’t care, and I called her an arsehole that never loved me.” I run a hand through my hair. Old stress habit. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was so unbelievably hurt. I knew it was wrong the moment after I said it, but I was too angry and proud to apologize. Agatha walked out. And that was the last time I ever saw her.” The words piece my heart like a knife. I feel like I'm about to shatter into pieces “We avoided each other all through finals. Right after graduation, Agatha moved to California for her masters. She wouldn’t take my calls, then she changed her number. So I gave up. Haven’t talked to her in twelve years. No idea where she is now and what she’s doing.”

Dr. Margaret nods thoughtfully, placing the notebook down. “What would you do differently? Try to fix things? Stay together?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, god no. We weren’t good as a couple. But Agatha was one of my closest friends way before she was my girlfriend. I just, I want the breakup to not be so awful. That way we can stay friends. I want to keep her in my life. If I wasn’t such an arse, she would be.”

“Sounds reasonable. Let’s see if you can do it.”

A familiar chill hits me. At first it was terrifying but now I expect it. “Alright.”

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins.

———————————————

“You’re not hearing me, Simon!” Agatha screams. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s over!”

I stumble, blinking at Agatha and trying to focus on what’s around me. Dirty walls, Lady Gaga posters, a shitty desk I picked up off the curb. Yeah, this is definitely my uni apartment. And this is definitely Agatha screaming at me, trying to break things off and I’ve just been yelling. She’s so mad but I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.

“What are you smiling about?! Are you listening to me?!” She groans and shakes her head. “We’re done, Si. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.”

She turns around to leave and my pulse skyrockets. No no, not again. “Ags, wait! I-I am listening. Please, don’t leave!”

Agatha freezes, hand on the knob. She glares at me over her shoulder. “What?”

“I-I’m sorry for yelling, that was awful. Can we just sit down and talk this out? Please?”

She looks me over, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I know I am, but as far as she's concerned I was screaming my bloody lungs out a minute ago. Must be weird for her. Thankfully, she lets go of the knob. “Fine.”

I sigh in utter relief. I sit down on my shitty mattress (pretty sure I got this off the curb too) and Agatha follows. She’s tense, arms crossed. I fiddle with my fingers. The nail beds are all chewed up, hangnails surrounded by dark dried blood. Glad I broke that habit, but right now I sort of wish I still did it. It made me feel better.

“Are you going to say something?” Agatha asks, voice biting.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh...” I rub the back of my neck. Words are getting fucked up again.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Simon. We’re through.”

“I know, Ags, I know. I don’t want us to stay together.”

Her eyebrows furrow. It’s really cute. I miss when she did that. “You don’t?”

“No, no, we’re not good as a couple. We don’t work well.”

“Oh.” Her arms fall into her lap. “Okay. Yeah, I think the same.”

“Awesome.” I turn towards her with a big grin. “But, uh, could we still be friends though? You’ve always been one of my best friends, Agatha. I-I don’t want to lose you after this.”

Agatha rubs her lips together, But slowly, she nods. “Okay, yeah.”

A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. I grin so wide it hurts. “That’s great! That’s so great. I-I just, I don’t want to lose you just cause our relationship didn’t work out.”

She looks even more confused, and I’m not sure why. “What do you mean ‘didn’t work out?’”

“Well, I-I mean, y’know, we just don’t work as a couple. We haven’t been happy for awhile because things have kind of...fizzled out, right?”

Suddenly, that infuriated expression comes back. She groans and stands up. “I can’t believe you, Si! You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, have you?!”

I stand up too. “No, no, I have! You want to break up, and I get why, we’re not happy together. We’re not a good couple-”

“Because of you!” she screams. I stumble back slightly from the force of her words.  “You fucked up!”

A horrible, upset, disgusted feeling takes over my whole body. Like my very soul is sicking up. I step towards her, reaching out. “Ags, I don’t know what you mean. H-How did I ruin things? Tell me what I did wrong!”

She shakes her head and backs away. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Si. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Agatha starts to stomp away. I chase after her. “Agatha! Ags, please, don’t-”

She slams the door so hard all my knick knacks rattle. I’m left in silence, except for the thoughts rattling around in my head. Fuck, what did I say? What did I do? I can’t think of anything I’ve done horrible enough to warrant such a response from Agatha. I pull at my hair and gnaw at my nail beds. I mean, this me already does it, so where’s the harm? Fuck, I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember!

Penny. I gotta go find Penny. She always has the answers. She’ll remember why I fucked up. I rush out the door and swing my way down the shitty stairs, careful to avoid the usual vomit puddles. I’m speed walking across the lawn towards Pen’s TA building when I spot familiar frizzy white hair.

“That was fast,” Dr. Margaret says, looking down at her book with a Starbucks drink in hand. She’s dressed in a horribly ugly orange tank top and boho skirt. Perfect for 2003. She needs to blend in with the time period, or at least that’s what she says. I think she just likes to dress up. “Saw her storm out. Looked really mad.”

“What the fuck was the point of this?!” I yell. I’m so angry, I can’t help it. My temper is something I need to work on but I really don’t care right now. “I still cocked things up with Agatha, so she still hates me, and all I’ve learned is that I apparently did something horrible that I don’t even remember because it’s been twelve bloody years!”

She takes a long drink from her large Starbucks cup. “Hm. Quite difficult. What’re you going to do?”

“Find Penny, I guess, She’ll know, right?”

Dr. Margaret shrugs. “Don’t know. You have a phone. Call her.”

Oh, right, phones are a thing. I dig around in my cargo shorts (god, I can’t believe, I used to wear these things) and pull out my old Nokia slide phone. I sneer at the thing. It was my first and shittiest cell phone. I thought I was so cool because my mobile slid out. I was such a prat.

I go to my contacts, and Penny is one of five. That makes me a little sad. I always liked people, but I was always bad at making real friends. I’ve gotten better now but past me barely had anyone. I click her number, and she picks up after two rings.

“Hey, Simon, what’s up?” she asks.

“Um, not much,” I respond automatically. Dr. Margaret glares at me. Right, I don’t need to push down my problems and pretend everything is okay. Penny’s my friend, she’ll want to help. “Actually, there’s a lot. Aggie and I just broke up.”

“Oh Si, I’m so sorry. How’re you feeling?”

“Not too bad. I guess it was inevitable. I’m more confused than anything. Ags said I ruined it by doing something, but I’m not sure what I did. Do you have any idea what she meant?”

“Uh...I really don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything. She doesn’t usually tell me things anyway.”

I sigh and rub my face. “Yeah, true. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Pen.”

“Welcome, Simon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my massive pocket. Dr. Margaret is back to reading. “Well, that was no help.”

“Too bad. Maybe going to the source would be better.”

I frown in utter confusion. “You want me to go talk to Agatha again?”

“She knows what’s wrong. You don’t. Ask her.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re never this direct. What’s going on?”

She flicks her eyes to me, smiling slyly. “Don’t trust me, Simon?”

“No! I just know you always have something else going on. Nothing in therapy is ever easy or simple.”

“Know that. Taught you that.” She snaps the book closed. “Do what you think is best, Simon. Then live with choices.”

She stands up, book tucked into her hippie purse, and walks down the lawn. I huff, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. “You know I hate when you say that! It’s just pointing out the obvious! That’s lazy therapy!”

Dr. Margaret, the woman who has changed my life in so many ways, makes the “whatever” W sign at me. I chuckle and shake my head. Okay, well, this is probably some weird test (again), but Dr. Margaret has a point. Best to be direct. Maybe Agatha will have cooled down by the time I get there. I should do something nice. Bring her flowers, yeah, that’s a good idea. I look down at my cargo shorts, baggy Eminem shirt, and filthy knock off converse. Definitely need to change too.

I rush back to my apartment. It’s dingy and gross, but there’s a weird nostalgia to it. I should’ve put up more posters. (Why can’t that be a regret? That would be so much easier.) My dresser is bursting at the seams as usual. I throw my t-shirts around looking for something passable, but everything is dirty, tacky, smells like weed, or all of the above.

“Christ, how did I live like this?” I grumble, as if I wasn’t pretty much still living like this a year ago. (Minus the weed. Kicked that after uni, thankfully.)

Eventually I find a plain brown shirt and a pair of jeans with only one tomato sauce stain. Alright, I’m passable now at least. That’ll get Agatha’s attention just because it’s so out of character for who I am in this time. I open the old pickle jar where I keep all my change and scrounge together about 20 quid. Should be enough for flowers, especially before the 2008 crash. The exchange rate is the only thing I miss about the past, honestly.

“Alright,” I mutter to myself, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder, “decent clothes, okay hair, pocket change, bag to hold flowers. Let’s do this.”

I walk out my front door feeling confident, hopefully not too much. Can’t get a big head. Need to focus on Agatha.

“Simon, mate.” I turn around to see Rhys wheeling out of his flat. “What’s up? Heard a lot of shouting earlier, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m cool, man. Agatha and I broke up and things got messy.”

He inhales sharply between his teeth. “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Can’t believe she dumped you for that snotty prep.”

I stand ramrod straight, then spin around on my heels to face him properly. “What snotty prep?”

“Oh you didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?!”

Rhys raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, take it easy, man.”

Shit. Reel in your temper, Simon, don’t explode. “Sorry, sorry, mate. Just, what are you talking about with this prep?”

“Yeah, this preppy pretty boy Agatha sits next to in our romantic literature and creative writing classes. They’ve always got their heads together. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my business, but then you said you two broke up, so...”

“So you thought she told me, got it.” I rub my temples. Headache is coming back. “Do you know who he is?”

Rhys scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, think so. Tall, dark-ish skin, grey eyes, posh accent, even more posh clothes. Name starts with a T. Terrence, Terry, Tyler-” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Ty! That’s it!”

My face scrunches up. “Ty? Ty what?”

“Dunno. Just Ty, I guess. Like Madonna. Dude thinks he’s better than fucking everyone just because he’s rich or something.”

My blood boils to a fever pitch. So Agatha broke up with me for someone prettier and richer. She said it was my fault because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Mission failed, because I am fucking gutted.

“Thanks for telling me, mate,” I say, holding out my fist to him. He bumps his own against mine. “Really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, mate. Come have a beer with us to commiserate?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but you may have to remind me later. Brain like sieve.”

“Gotchu. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Rhys rolls down the hall towards Gareth’s. Right, it’s their weekly beer and footie night. I would hang out with them sometimes. I miss that. I should call them when I’m back in 2015. Right now though, I have a mission.

———————————————

Finding Ty will be pretty easy. I know when Agatha and Rhys’ creative writing class is, which is in a couple of minutes. (Rhys skipped a lot of class. Luckily he was a genius so he graduated at the top of our year. And Agatha never went to class when she was upset, so I know I won’t see her.) I run over to the building I know it’s in, a massive hall made from dingy grey stone and filled with caffeine addicted twenty somethings. Then I sit by a tree, waiting to see someone like Rhys described. Oh and when I find him I’ll- Well, I’ll do something. Not sure yet but it’ll be something!

Droves of zombified uni students pass me by. None of them look posh and preppy enough to be like this Ty dude. He sounds like such a twat. What the fuck does Agatha see in him? (Or did see in him, I guess. Time travel is weird.) Maybe Agatha is still with him. Maybe they went to California together. She talked about me going with her for a bit, but I was scared to leave England. I don’t regret staying, but I do regret the crushed look on her face.

The guy passes by me. He looks ridiculous, wearing oxfords, black slacks, and a goddamn tweed jacket with leather patches on the sleeves. It’s the preppiest posh shit I’ve ever seen. I can see his hands, curled around his textbook, and his slicked back hair. Dark-ish skin and ear length black hair. I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Hey!” I shout. He doesn’t move. “Hey, Ty! I’m talking to you!”

He finally turns around, and my heart stops for a second. Holy shit. This guy is beautiful. Like, super model on the cover of a high end fashion magazine gorgeous. He’s got cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and his eyes aren’t just grey, they’re green and blue mixed together. Like deep ocean water. And right now they’re staring at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

“Yes?” he says. His voice is smooth, strong, really pretty. “You called my name?”

I shake off my small gay panic (technically pansexual panic) and my anger returns. I glare hard at him. “Yeah, I did. My name is Simon Snow, Agatha’s boyfriend.”

His confusion quickly switches to stone faced boredom. “Oh you’re the boyfriend. Well, the ex-boyfriend now, according to the text Agatha sent me.” He tilts his head to the side, ocean eyes scanning me over. “I thought you’d be taller.”

My body feels like it’s on fire. This guy may be hot but he’s a total prick. How could Agatha dump me for him?! “Who do you think you are, huh? Flirting with someone’s girlfriend? That’s fucking low, you pathetic shit!”

He scoffs, putting on hand on his hip. “Very well spoken. If you’re done with your little alpha male display, I have a class to get to.”

Ty turns away. I’m ready to explode. I haven’t felt this angry in years but this guy is getting so under my skin. I grab his shoulder and force him to look at me.

“You don’t get to walk away, dick!” I roar. “Do you think you’re better than me?! Well you’re not!”

“I’m not the one shouting at a random stranger on the quad.”

“I’m shouting because you stole my girlfriend!”

“I didn’t steal her, you sexist shit,” he hisses. “She’s my  friend. Are you the kind of arse to not allow his girlfriend to have friends?”

“No! And I’m not sexist! I just don’t like someone flirting with the girl I was with when I was with her, especially when you’re all...posh and shit!”

Ty scoffs again and leans forward. “Well, at least I don’t wear dirty jeans out in public. I have more self respect than that.”

My entire body explodes in a way it hasn’t in ages. My vision goes completely fucking red. I shove Ty, hard. Way harder than I mean to. He stumbles backwards, dropping his books on the grass. He looks at me in utter shock.

“What the fuck?!” Ty shouts. He then shoves my shoulders, and I stumble five steps back. Holy shit, he’s strong. 

“Fuck you!” I shout back. I charge forward with all my might. Ty blocks me but that doesn’t stop me. I claw and push and pull at him, no clue what I’m doing at all. I’m just so angry and pushing it all at him. He pushes back just as hard. Neither of us will give an inch. We scrabble like a pair of cats. I can’t think, I just feel. I'm so angry and sad and worthless because...because....

Because I’m losing my friend again. And I don’t know what to do.

My hits get weaker and weaker. All the energy dribbles out like a melting ice cream in July. As I slow down, Ty stops pushing back. My arms fall down at my sides. His hands rest awkwardly on my shoulders.

“Uh,” he says, “are you alright?”

“No,” I choke out. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. “No, I’m not.”

I break down, crying with heavy, ugly sobs. Everything is just collapsing in and around me. I really am losing Agatha all over again. It hurts even more this time. I’ve never fallen apart this badly on a regret. But everything from the past and present, losing all my partners in the past year then Agatha again, is just hitting me in one terrible mental blow.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Um...” I feel his hand move off my shoulder and slowly pat my head. “There, there?”

I snort like one of the kids I teach. I pull back, wiping the still flowing tears under my eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

Though it’s a bit hard to tell, I think Ty’s face flushes. He crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do when a stranger attacks you then breaks down crying?”

I shrug. “Dunno, really. This is new for me too.”

Ty rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his polished oxfords in the dirt. I’m still sniffling like a child. “You want to go somewhere private? Where no one can see you?”

My eyes catch a couple of people glancing and outright staring at us. Or just at me. I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Ty collects up the books I knocked out of his hands. He jerks his head to the side, and I follow behind him. Tears are still streaming down my face. They won’t stop no matter how hard I try. Ty leads us through a secluded area, past large trees and bushes, until we reach a completely hidden, beautiful ravine. Holy shit. Was this always here? I went to this uni for three years and I have no memory of this place. Either I’m super oblivious or getting old. (Probably both.)

We go past a couple more bushes until we come upon a ramshackle rainbow coloured bench against some trees. It looks handmade by some stoned out art major. The mess of cigarette and joint butts on the ground only reinforces that theory. Ty sits on one end of the bench. I take the other, but we’re still pretty close. It’s not very big. We sit in silence for a bit, save for my continued sniffling. Something bumps my arm. I look down to see Ty’s long fingered hand holding out a cigarette pack.

“Want one?” he asks.

“Smoking is bad for you,” I say automatically.

“Like you’re one to talk. You reek of marijuana”

“Fuck, really?” I sniff my shirt collar and get a whiff of weed. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tree. “Dammit. Thought this one was clean.”

“Unfortunately not.” He shakes the box. “You want one or no?”

I sigh and pluck a stick out of the box. Ty takes one as well, then pulls out a pristine silver Zippo lighter. He lights us both with one flame. I watch the paper crinkle and shrivel away into ash. I’m a bit nervous. Technically, I haven’t smoked anything in over a decade. Hopefully I can depend on past me’s muscle memory. 

Ty takes a long, deep draft and breathes out a long puff of smoke. I try to mimic him. My lungs burn with the heat of twin suns. I wheeze out, thumping my chest. Ty throws his head back laughing,  hair touching his neck.

“You must be a shitty stoner,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” I cough, “never been great at inhaling.”

“Bring it into your mouth, then your lungs. Don’t do it all once.”

I nod, even though I kind of knew that. Just been awhile. I smoked a few joints but I preferred my old bong. But I try again, doing what Ty said. This time I only cough a little instead of wheezing like the world’s most pathetic dragon.

“There you go,” Ty drawls. He’s definitely mocking me a little.

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what bug crawled up your arse?”

I glare at him, and his face is completely unaffected. “The bug that Agatha broke up with me for you.”

He scoffs, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. “Your  ex- girlfriend did not break up with you to be with me. We’re only friends. I’d never date her.”

“That’s mean, Agatha is amazing.”

Ty rolls his eyes dramatically. “It has nothing to do with Agatha. She’s wonderful. I just don’t like women.”

My eyes grow wider than saucer plates “You’re gay?”

He cocks an eyebrow. How did he get so good at that? Does he practice in the mirror? “You have a problem with that, Snow?”

“No, no, of course not. Just didn’t realise...”

“It’s not like I’m hiding it.” He gestures to his perfectly pressed button down, spotless navy slacks, and polished Oxfords. Okay, he has a point, most straight men don’t take such meticulous care of their clothes. 2003 closeted me had the excuse of being heteronormative as fuck, but 2015 pansexual me needs to work on his gaydar.

“I, uh, didn’t want to assume...” Usually a safe answer in my experience.

“How noble.” Ty takes a long drag. I still hate cigarettes, but the way his lips fit around the smoke plume is kind of attractive. “Agatha knows I’m gay. I told her after she almost kissed me.”

“What?!” I throw down the cigarette and shoot to my feet. The fire in my gut is back, along with the sense of utter worthlessness. I fucked up so badly, made Agatha so miserable, that she nearly kissed a gay bloke. I feel so awful and confused and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do, I’m just mad.

He rolls his eyes,  again. “Sit down, alpha male, I said ‘almost.’ I’m not even sure she realised what she was doing, we were both completely pissed. She leaned forward slightly and I blurted out that I was gay. Then she promptly burst into tears.”

My heart feels like someone has reached inside and twisted every vein. My arms relax at my sides. “She...she was crying?”

“Yes, quite heavily.” He taps the cig with one long, graceful finger. (Does he play piano? He should.) “She said she was sorry, then blubbered for an hour about how conflicted she felt about wanting to break up with you.”

The impact of those words send me back down onto the bench. My whole body feels heavier than lead. “She felt conflicted?”

“Of course she did.”

“I-I thought this was easy for her. That our relationship was already going downhill, then I did something so bad she decided to end it. And then I thought it was because she found you, someone better than me.”

Ty scoffs. “My god, she was right, you are completely oblivious.”

I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You’re so blind to what you’ve been doing.”

“What’ve I been doing?!”

“You’ve been a terrible boyfriend!” he yells. “You’re forgetful, you miss things, you don’t pay attention to Agatha, and most of all you take her for granted!” He sighs, rolling the half finished cig between his fingers. “Ags says you don’t mean to do it, you’re just oblivious, but she’s still hurt. There isn’t one bad thing you did, Snow. You’ve been hurting her for awhile.”

Every word is slap to the face. My body literally aches with all the guilt I feel. Ty is right. I was an awful,  awful boyfriend. Every missed date, every burnt meal, every stupid thing I’ve ever said, they all rush into me. Fucking hell. How could I have not seen it? I always had reasons, and they were always small things. But I guess a lot of small things pile up.

“Fuck,” I choke out. Tears make little wet spots on the dirt floor. I don’t know when I started crying again. God, I’m a mess.

“Please don’t cry,” Ty says, sounding almost sympathetic. “I only have so many cigarettes.”

That makes a laugh surprisingly fly out of my mouth. Yet I’m still picking at my nails, flicking away bits of my cuticle like I want to get rid of my pain. I’m nervously babbling before I even realise it. “My brain’s always filled with...stuff. Keeping my scholarship, keeping my job, working towards my future. E-Everything’s always been about my future, what I’ll do eventually, even with Agatha. She was supposed to be my happy ending after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“She’s a person,” he mutters, “not your goal.”

“I know that!” I rub away more tears. “Well, I’m learning. I dunno. I-I had a shitty childhood, okay? So I’m always waiting for things to get better. And I thought if I did well at school and found a nice girl, things would just fall into place. Turns out shit is more complicated than that.”

I laugh to try to break the tension, but Ty stays silent. I cautiously flick my eyes over to him. He’s still holding his cigarette. It’s burnt down to the filter. His face is stone again, yet I can see the slight tremor in his fingers. It’s miniscule but it’s there. I don’t think he’s okay, but I barely know this guy, I’m scared to ask.

“I don’t know how to fix things with Agatha,” I sigh. “I’m bad at talking, bad at relationships, sometimes bad at friendships. It’s not like I want her back. I...I just want her in life. She’s amazing. I don’t- I can’t lose her again.”

“Again?” he says. My face goes bright red and my breath hitches. Fuck. Stupid time travel, screwing things up.

“Y-Yeah, we’ve had fights before, stopped talking for a while. I know this feeling, I hate it. I want her to be in my life and be happy and I don’t know how to do that!”

“Tell her that.”

I face him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Ty sighs and flicks the butt onto the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his utterly perfect oxford. “Tell her that. Say you’re scared and clueless but you want to still be friends, so you want to figure out how to do that. Be honest. What else are you going to do?”

My mouth flaps up and down. Fuck. It’s so damn obvious yet it never came to mind. I thought I needed something big and smart so Agatha would understand. But... “All I need to do is be honest with her.”

“Exactly.”

I smile for the first time since I got here. “Wow, can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“You do seem to be a bit thick.” His slight smirk and teasing lilt save me from getting angry. I scoff and shake my head.

“Yeah, well, you seem like a bit of a prick.” He scoffs too, but he’s still smiling.

We sit there in silence for a little. All I can hear is birds chirping and students in the distance. I feel calm. So calm I don’t want to get up for a while. I just want to catch my breath. Ty slowly tilts his head back over the bench.

“I haven’t sat down in awhile,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, but too loud for me not to hear. “I’m always at class or studying. I don’t sit down and just...sit.”

“Well you haven’t really been only sitting,” I chuckle. “You’ve been helping me.”

“Would it be sad that this has actually been the most relaxing time I’ve had in months?”

“Uh, yeah, and a bit concerning.”

Ty laughs a little louder this time. His smile seems a bit more genuine, but his pretty eyes are a bit sad. It may just be his face. It looks like it’s designed for pouting. “I’m a political science and English double major getting ready for law school. My whole life is stress.”

I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It is. A nightmare I chose...” He spins the cigarette pack between two fingers. I know he’s just fiddling but it looks so damn cool when he does it.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re happy about that choice.”

His eyes shift over to me without moving his head. “Since when do you know anything about my feelings?”

I shrug, crossing my arms. “I usually know what sadness looks like.”

Ty sighs. He rubs his temple slowly with his elegant ring finger. (What is with my finger fetish today?) “Ever since I was little, it was expected that I follow in the family tradition. Get perfect grades, go to a good university, go to an even better law school, become a lawyer, then finally take over the family practice. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he scoffs.

I tilt my head towards him, but not too close to scare him away. “Well, if you could do what you want, what would you do?”

“I told you, it doesn’t mat-”

“Then pretend it does matter. What would you do for the rest of your life?”

Ty sinks further into the bench. It makes his stupid tweed jacket bunch up slightly, and he almost looks like a normal young adult. “Honestly, I just want to read books forever.”

I giggle quietly, and Ty glares at me with a now obvious flush in his cheeks. “Fuck off,” he snarls.

“I’m not laughing at you!” He doesn’t look convinced. “It’s just, when I first saw you, I never expected you to be a total bookworm. You seem too posh for that.” Ty snorts, keeping his arms crossed. He won’t meet my eyes. I lean closer, and he doesn’t back away. “Reading books forever sounds hellish to me, but it sounds like heaven for you. It’s a great idea. Why not do it?”

Ty’s glare somehow gets even more intense. His eyes are just slivers of beautiful grey. “Because I’m a responsible person, unlike you.”

The words hit me right in the gut. I scowl deeply at him. “That is beyond not okay. You don’t know me, you don’t know my life. So you don’t get to spew shit like that just because you’re pissed off. Got it?”

Honestly, I’m surprised how clear and articulate I’m being. A year with Dr. Margaret has made it a lot easier for me to stand up for myself in a meaningful way, not just with growls and punching. But still, it’s hard, and I did this so easily. I’ve really made progress.

Ty scowls back, but I don’t back down. I’ve always been good at standing my ground, thankfully. Slowly, Ty’s face falls and gets less angry. In fact, he looks a bit regretful. We slowly move apart again. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks again.

“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Good, apology accepted.” I lean my cheek onto my fist. “Seems both of us are having trouble with our futures.”

“Mine is secure.”

“But not happy.”

He rubs his lips together, like he’s chewing his words. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? Why not do what you want instead?”

“Because I’ve already applied to law school!”

“Okay.” I put my back to the bench again, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Well, I’m nearly done with my maths and am about to start my teaching degrees. Then I've got a private school job lined up, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the job and quit and work at shitty customer service jobs for years until I decide to get my shit together and find an actually good teaching gig at a school I like.”

Ty’s dark brows furrow together. “That is extremely specific.”

I shrug, hoping my smirk doesn't say too much. “I don’t know, just a possibility.”

“Alright,” he snorts. “My life will be fine, it won’t go off the rails.”

He looks so sure and resolute. I don’t think I’m going to change his mind, and I don’t think it’s my job to. I can’t save everyone, something Dr. Margaret taught me. Plus I just met this guy. No matter how pretty he is, I don’t know him. (Wish I did.) Hopefully he can figure out his own shit.

“Okay. Your life, you can figure it all out.” I put my hands behind my head, leaning back, staring at the sky.

“Your life is going to be fine,” Ty says. “Agatha says that despite what you think, you’re smart. And I’m partial to agree. You have trouble with relationships, but who doesn’t? You’ve still got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll figure everything out too.”

I can feel my face turns bright red, and from the smirk on Ty’s face he can see it. I rub the back of my neck, trying to use my arm to hide my blush. “Y’know, I get why Agatha liked you. You’re weirdly nice and, well, really hot.”

Now it’s Ty’s turn to have his eyes go wide. He looks very cute. “Wow, you’re pretty forward for a straight guy.”

“Whoever said I was straight?” I smirk at him with one eyebrow raised. I hope I look confident and sexy and not just fucking weird.

“Oh.” His voice is almost a squeak. “I’m sorry I assumed.”

“S’alright, common mistake.” I look down at my stupid Nokia. “Wow, you’re beyond late for your class.”

Ty scoffs. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Okay, yeah, guilty as charged. You should probably get to it though. Need good grades for law school and all.”

“Yes, good point.” He stands up, and I follow, hands in my pockets. I both hate and love that Ty is a little taller than me. “But...it was nice to talk to you, Snow.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ty. So, uh, see you around.”

I grin brightly, then turn around before I say something really stupid. I usually do in front of pretty people. Plus I need to see Agatha. That’s why I’m here, back in 2003. I’m not supposed to be chasing after a pretty guy who went to my uni ages ago. Even if he is like,  really pretty.

“Simon.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks and turn back.

“Yeah?”

Ty steps forward and holds out a scrap of lined paper. “Since you’re newly single, and now I know you’re not straight, give me a call sometime? If you’re up to it, that is.”

My brain completely short circuits. Blows a fuse. Maybe every fuse. I just stare at Ty with my mouth hanging open for a bit too long. Ty starts to look genuinely concerned. But thankfully the synapses start firing again and I shake it off.

“Um, y-yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would like that.” I take the paper. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. I hope to see you around as well.”

I watch as he walks away, and I’m mesmerised by the way his hips swing. Fuck, he is so hot. And he likes  me. I honestly have no clue why but I’m not going to question it. I have to make sure to call him before I go back to 2020. But right now I have to find Agatha, so I carefully put the paper in the smallest pocket of my bag, then dash off towards Aggie’s dorm.

———————————————

I knock on the door softly, and there’s no answer at first. “Aggie?” I say. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I won’t yell, I promise.”

Still silence at first. I nearly leave, but then the sound of soft footsteps comes from under the door. The doorknob slowly turns and my pulse increases every second. Agatha is wearing her purple Watford lacrosse sweater, a pair of my trackies that I left behind last week, and blonde hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. My stomach drops at the sight.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, voice low and flat. She sounds more tired than angry. For some reason that hurts even more.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Ags. Our relationship didn’t fall apart for no reason. I didn’t pay attention to what you wanted and took you for granted. I was a terrible boyfriend. And I’m really, really sorry.” I start nervously pulling at my hair. “I-I’m not saying we should get back together. We weren’t happy, and you deserve someone who will put you first. But I still want to be your friend. You’re one of my first and best friends. I’m not sure how to do that, considering I was such an shit boyfriend, but can we figure it out? Together?”

Agatha rubs her lips together, taking slow deep breaths. Her fingers tap against the door one by one. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or run or both. All are possible. But then Agatha nods slowly.

“Okay,” she sighs.

“Okay?”

“Let’s try to be friends again. I don’t want to lose you either.”

I grin ear to ear. “Okay, awesome, that’s great. I’m so glad you want to as well. I do love you, Ags, and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.”

“Apology accepted, Si, so you don’t need to do it anymore. Let’s just move forward, alright?”

“Alright, yeah, I’d like that.” I rub my neck and nervously gnaw at my lip. “Um, could I hug you? As a friend?”

She smiles softly. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. Not just because I’m from the future, but I can’t remember the last time she smiled back when we were together. I hope I can make her smile more now.

“Yeah,” she says, “that would be nice.”

We both step forward and throw our arms around each other. I haven’t hugged Agatha in a long time either. Sure, we snogged and had sex, (though not very often honestly), but this is so much better. There’s no pressure or nerves. It feels normal. The most normal I’ve ever felt with her.

As we slowly part, we’re still smiling. “You,” Agatha pokes my chest, “need to study for your exam on Monday.”

I chuckle and nod, being silently thankful  I’m not doing that exam again. Once was more than enough. “Yeah, I know. This felt more important though. You’re more important.”

She blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. Past me was always too focused on my work so that I could reach the happy ending I always wanted. Future me is figuring out that there is no happy ending. There’s just life, and I have to make it what I want, not just wait for happiness to fall into my lap. I haven’t got it down pat but I’m getting there. That’s more than good enough.

“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that,” Agatha says. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go get brunch, okay?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Sounds great.” The voice in the back of my head reminds me about the small fact of time travel, and that when I go back to 2015, past me is only going to remember bits and pieces of this day. “But, uh, studying may fry my brain. So could you maybe call instead? And I’ll call next time?”

Agatha sighs with exasperation, but she’s still smiling. “Alright, that’s a valid excuse.” She presses a small kiss to my cheek. It’s completely platonic, and it feels great. “See you later, Simon.”

“Yeah, definitely.” I hug her tight one more time before I go. She gives me a kind wave before closing her door. I’m grinning like a mad man as I walk down the hell. I did it, I saved my friendship with Agatha. I’m so damn happy. Plus I met Ty.

Oh right. I reach into my bookbag, feeling around for my notebook. My hand curls over the rings of the spine as I push open the stairwell door. And I instantly fall face first onto the dirty public school floor.

“Mr, Snow!” Ms. Petty, the nicest janitor in the entire school, possibly in the whole world, rushes to me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Here, let me help.”

I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet. I still feel a bit dizzy, a small side effect of time travel I know all too well now. Ms. Petty keeps a hand on my back until I regain my bearings. “Alright, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, dearie.” She pats my shoulder. “Go get some rest, get your mind off work.”

“Right, yeah, work...”

Ebb gives me one last comforting pat and goes back to sweeping the hallway floor. I wave at her as I leave, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face. 

Fuck.

———————————————

AN: Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week, i.e whenever I'm well enough to edit it lol. See you all next time!

[supposed2bfunny]

Heck it! Vento Aureo Neuro-Divergent Headcanons!

Narancia

-Narancia has (undiagnosed) ADHD.

-And boy does he love to stim with his hands! Using his flick knife is his preferred method of keeping his hands busy, but that tapping he’s doing while listening to his boombox? Slappy time! 

-He also flaps when he gets served his favorite meal or a fancy dessert at restaurants with the gang.

-His feet are EXTREMELY restless and he has a tendency to kick his shoes on and off when he’s sitting around. This makes them a tad loose, which is why they always come flying off in battle.

-Surprisingly, Abbacchio is the most equipped to handle Narnacia’s energy and helps ground him with his Cool Goth Vibe.

-Abba and Nara paint their nails together sometimes when Narancia is feeling overwhelmed. Especially on rainy days when the sound of the rain puts him on edge.

-He’ll just start singing jingles from commercials at random, sometimes in the middle of a conversation. When they get in his head, he’s gotta let them out! In general, noises can be either a source of elation or anxiety for him.

-He’s often lost in his own thoughts so deep that when someone speaks to him, it can take a few seconds for him to process what’s just been said. 

-Sights, sounds, and smells all tend to overwhelm him, but touch is very soothing. Look how tight that shirt is; there’s a reason!

-Sometimes if he’s having a hard time, he’ll just ask for a bear-hug from Mista. The pressure helps him relax instantly. Since it took a long time for Narancia to work up the nerve to ask for a hug, he would at first just grab one of Mista’s arms and drape it around his shoulders, or even place one of his hands on his head. It didn’t take long for Mista to understand the wordless request for comfort.

Fugo

-Holy fuck words are hard for Fugo.

-Unless you ask him about something he’s passionate about. Then he will chat away and info-dump, his eyes light up and it’s one of the rare times you’ll see Fugo open up and look super happy.

-Since he has a hard time socially, he tries to use formalities to bridge the gap between himself and friends. Teaching math to Narancia? Formal, serves a functional purpose. A logical thing to do, really. Also means he gets to spend the afternoon with his friend :) He’s also always trying to take on extra tasks for Buccellati so he can be around him.

-He adores Buccellati, but Bucci tends to make a lot of intense eye contact, which always makes Fugo antsy because he hates eye contact. Thank god for Abbacchio, who will go on a mission with him and return to Naples without ever looking at his face. What a good friend!

-Yes, sometimes he practices speaking in front of a mirror, trying to keep his head high and make his cadence more like Buccellati’s. And what about it?

-Touch-averse to the extreme. Do not touch him. Please.

-Hands-down pickiest eater of the group because a lot of smells and textures freak him out. His sense of smell in particular is super strong. When in doubt, strawberries are always a good way to make him eat. He can devour those all day and never tire of them. He’s been known to just eat bread for lunch if the smell of his meal is Bad and puts him off.

-Also prone to stomach-aches from stress. His mind-body connection is VERY strong and his social anxiety informs how he feels. And since he’s anxious most of the time...:(

-His skin is so sensitive: his suits are made from super soft material and don’t have tags. His clothing budget is sky-high but he looks dope and he feels good!

-He tends to pick at his hair, so he has horrible split ends all the time.

-He’s probably the least likely one in the gang to self-sooth or practice self-care because he doesn’t feel he deserves to feel good. Thankfully, the rest of the gang feels quite differently and is slowly but surely memorizing everything they can do to make his life easier.

Mista

-He’s naturally extroverted and loves to be with friends, but he needs breaks to recharge frequently, which is why he always brings along books or magazines to read and have quiet time. If he doesn’t get a chance to decompress, he gets fidgety, overly chatty, and very unhappy. 

-Understanding what people are saying and interpreting other people’s feelings? Easy! Communicating back to people what’s on his own mind? Oof!

-Voice modulation? Lol never heard of her. Sometimes he’s just yelling instead of talking and that’s that on that.

-Despite the efforts he puts into being the “laid-back” type, he’s actually prone to anxiety attacks. Generally, he’s pretty helpless to communicate when he’s going into an attack, and doesn’t want to be seen as overly emotional or worse: a burden. So he tends to clam up until he reaches a breaking point. The only two people who can soothe him once he’s in the height of anxiety are Buccellati and, surprisingly, Fugo.

-His fear of the number four is 100% a self-imposed sort of order to help him feel he has control over some aspect of his life. Is that specific number linked to a childhood trauma? Probably! He’s not gonna talk about!

-Loves to eat, but he used to get distracted/lost in thought and skip meals chronically when he was younger. That’s why the Pistols are always begging for food at mealtimes. It gives him a routine.

-Executive dysnfucntion to the max.

-Hyper-empathic. Don’t let the tough demeanor fool you: he cries like every day, and adopts the vibe of whoever he’s with, which is again, why he gets overwhelmed and needs down time despite his love of socializing. 

-Zero spatial awareness. If there is something to bump into, he’s already bumped into it, knocked it over, tripped over it, or stepped on it. Half the time he’s hurt on missions, he’s the last one to notice.

Giorno

-Zero perception of personal space. Especially if he really likes you. (People are quick to assume he and Mista are a couple because his hands are always on him: it’s really just a security thing for Gio, nothing romantic intended).

-He also tends to get right up in your face if you’re having a one-on-one conversation. For the longest time, Fugo avoided talking with him alone cuz he Did Not Like the invasion of personal boundaries.

-He has a silly sense of humor, but his delivery is so flat people often can’t tell he’s joking, which leaves him feeling kinda :/

-Not good at reading people’s tones. If he has empirical evidence to glean something about someone (ie Buccellati’s hesitating to injure the drug addict teen in their first fight, which showed Giorno that he’s a kind and trustworthy man), then he’s confident. But he gets confused when he has to go off of facial cues and tone of voice alone. Those are way harder to understand for him!

-He’s constantly asking if his friends are upset with him because he can’t tell and he’s very anxious about that! At least Abbacchio is upfront about his feelings, even if he’s not too fond of Giorno. At least once a day you’ll hear a very polite “Hey, Narancia...I’m very sorry to trouble you, but you’re not mad at me, are you? No? Okay just checking...”

-Put Fugo and Giorno in a room together and get them talking about Roman history or biology and they will not shut up. They LOVE to info dump at one another!

-He had such a lonely childhood and he is hyper aware of how literal and overly formal he can be. He acts collected but he’s actually so self-conscious of it, and is terrified that the gang puts up with him because of his stand abilities, not because of who he is as a person.

-Soooo sensory-seeking. Please braid his hair! Go ahead! He would adore that!

-Has been known to summon Gold Experience just for a hug when he was really upset. These days Narancia and Mista try to be there for him instead.

-He has synesthesia all the time, which might be part of how he’s able to think so creatively when fighting other stand users. Sometimes on bad days, he’ll just communicate in colors instead of words, because it takes less energy.

-On one really bad day, Abbacchio asked why Giorno was showing Mista pictures of different gray skies in a book and not talking. Mista explained that those pictures were what was in Giorno’s head, that words were too heavy that day. After a moment’s thought, Abbacchio grabbed his headphones, set them on Giorno, and put on Monteverdi’s Symphony No. 3 in D Minor with the order “listen to that and tell me what you see.” Giorno searched through some of his books, then showed him a series of Monet’s water lillies. “That’s what I thought. Keep listening, punk. I’ll need the headphones back at the end of the day, or else you’re in for it.” Closest bonding experience they ever had.

At the moment I can’t think of anything for Abbacchio or Buccellati, but I’m happy to hear any other ideas people may have!

[marlynnofmany]

I do love a good writing prompt!

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Back when zombies were just a moldy idea from books and movies, instead of the raging disease that could burst out of any shadow, I always had one complaint.  In movies, it always spread too fast.  A city would be overrun in days.  What city in the entire world has such shoddy door locks that everybody could get bitten that fast?  Bitten with teeth!  There have always been regular humans roving the cities who would do worse than that if they got inside.  The idea that some slow-walking corpses could do it, even with extra strength, had never impressed me.  It just wasn’t believable.

Well guess what, Past Me, reality is under no obligation to be believable.  And the answer when we finally learned it was much worse.  

When I saw my first mannequin turn its head and start to walk, I peed my pants like a champion. 

It didn’t matter why the zombie had bitten the stupid thing — why would it do that?  The mannequin wasn’t meat.  But maybe zombies aren’t really after brains.  All we knew for sure was that they were after human shapes.  And human shapes responded.  

The bronze statue in the plaza.  The dolls in my neighbor’s trash can.  The angel statue outside the church that was already creepy after watching Doctor Who (thanks for that double dose of horror, reality).  Nothing could make me approach the graveyard.  Not when the toy store was already a dozen nightmares rolled into one.  

I still don’t know if this virus is partly airborne.  It travels too fast, even with all the stupid creepy idiotic dangerous things reacting to bites.  For all I know, it could be some magical STD that travels by saliva, impure thoughts, and a dislike for banana.  It doesn’t matter.  We’re dealing with it as best we can.  By helping each other whenever possible, and by taking sides when not.  

Case in point, when my neighbors locked the gate of the community pool in my face.  I barely climbed over before the zombie got me.  The fact that this particular undead had started life as one of those inflatable arm-waving things from the car dealership just made it worse.  A life-or-death betrayal shouldn’t be this stupid.  

The fact that I avoided that one wasn’t enough.  When I hid in the locked bathroom, after checking every single stall, I looked in the mirror and discovered the latest fresh horror.  

Reflections aren’t safe now either.  Mine certainly wasn’t.  

When I saw my own reflection standing beside a rotting zombie, I sprained my neck whipping around to look behind me.  But the room was empty.  I turned back to see my reflection — my loyal, trustworthy, been-with-me-my-whole-life reflection, innocent that it was — get its throat ripped out while it stared back at me in panic.  

My knees gave out.  I spent a very long time hugging myself on the floor, seeing only the reflected ceiling in the mirror.  I couldn’t have brought myself to stand and look if I’d wanted to.  

The sound of friends calling for me outside finally gave me the energy to break and scramble for the door.  One last look at the mirror showed a splash of blood, but nothing else.  

The next time I saw a shiny surface, my face didn’t reflect back.  It might have been kind of cool, in a ha-look-I’m-a-vampire sort of way, if not for that trauma in the bathroom.  

I told my friends what I’d seen, what I’d learned.  We all agreed that mirrors were to be avoided, and never ever broken, at all costs.  

We also agreed that the people next door were murderers.  We’d never liked them since they dumped mattresses on our lawn.  And stole our mail.  And our lawn ornaments.  And cut down my Grandma’s apple tree for firewood just because it leaned over their property.

At any rate, you’ll have to excuse me — I’ve got things to do.  Gonna carve a voodoo doll and go zombie-fishing, then chuck it over their fence and run.  All’s fair in love and zombiepocalypse.